THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

IN  MEMORY  OF 
EDWIN  CORLE 

PRESENTED  BY 
JEAN  CORLE 


CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 


3   . 

«3  — i 

Jl 

^    fcC 

o  '> 


5? 


THE  CRAIG  KENNEDY  5ERIE5 


CONSTANCE 
DUNLAP 


e>r 


ARTHUR  D.REEVE 


WITH    FRONTISPIECE 


HARPER  $  BROTHERS- PUBLISHERS 

NEW     YORK     AND     LONDON 


CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 


Copyright,  1913,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS 
Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


CONTENTS 


OHAPTEE  PAGE 

I  THE  FOEGEBS    .  -.       ...      1 

II  THE  EMBEZZLERS 37 

HE  THE  GUN  RUNNEES  .        ...    64 

IV  THE  GAMBLERS    .  ....    92 

V  THE  EAVESDROPPERS  .        .      *      .  124 

yi  THE  CLAIRVOYANTS  ....  148 

VII  THE  PLUNGERS        .  .        .:      .      .  176 

VIII  THE  ABDUCTOBS        .  s      •:      •      •  204 

IX  THE  SHOPLIFTERS  «        .        -.         232 

X  THE  BLACKMAILERS  .        s      ?         259 

XI  THE  DOPE  FIENDS  «      ,      ,      .  287 

THE  FUGITIVES    .      .  ,      ,      s      .  315 


2039C45 


CONSTANCE    DUNLAP 


Constance  Dunlap 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  FORGERS 

THERE  was  something  of  the  look  of  the 
hunted  animal  brought  to  bay  at  last  in  Carlton 
Dunlap  Js  face  as  he  let  himself  into  his  apart 
ment  .V.te  one  night  toward  the  close  of  the 
year. 

On  his  breath  was  the  lingering  odor  of 
whisky,  yet  in  his  eye  and  hand  none  of  the 
effects.  He  entered  quietly,  although  there  was 
no  apparent  reason  for  such  excessive  caution. 
Then  he  locked  the  door  with  the  utmost  care, 
although  there  was  no  apparent  reason  for 
caution  about  that,  either. 

Even  when  he  had  thus  barricaded  himself, 
he  paused  to  listen  with  all  the  elemental  fear 
of  the  cave  man  who  dreaded  the  footsteps  of 
his  pursuers.  In  the  dim  light  of  the  studio 
apartment  he  looked  anxiously  for  the  figure  of 
his  wife.  Constance  was  not  there,  as  she  had 
been  on  other  nights,  uneasily  awaiting  his  re- 

1 


2  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

turn.  What  was  the  matter!  His  hand  shook 
a  trifle  now  as  he  turned  the  knob  of  the  bed 
room  door  and  pushed  it  softly  open. 

She  was  asleep.  He  leaned  over,  not  realiz 
ing  that  her  every  faculty  was  keenly  alive  to 
his  presence,  that  she  was  acting  a  part. 

"  Throw  something  around  yourself,  Con 
stance,  ' '  he  whispered  hoarsely  into  her  ear,  as 
she  moved  with  a  little  well-feigned  start  at 
being  suddenly  wakened,  "  and  come  into  the 
studio.  There  is  something  I  must  tell  you  to 
night,  my  dear." 

"  My  dear!  "  she  exclaimed  bitterly,  now 
seeming  to  rouse  herself  with  an  effort  aud  pre 
tending  to  put  back  a  stray  wisp  of  her  dark 
hair  in  order  to  hide  from  him  the  tears  that 
still  lingered  on  her  flushed  cheeks.  "  You  can 
say  that,  Carlton,  when  it  has  been  every  night 
the  same  old  threadbare  excuse  of  working  at 
the  office  until  midnight!  " 

She  set  her  face  in  hard  lines,  but  could  not 
catch  his  eye. 

"  Carlton  Dunlap,"  she  added  in  a  tone  that 
rasped  his  very  soul,  "  I  am  nobody's  fool.  I 
may  not  know  much  about  bookkeeping  and  ac 
counting,  but  I  can  add — and  two  and  two,  when 
the  same  man  but  different  women  compose 
each  two,  do  not  make  four,  according  to  my 
arithmetic,  but  three,  from  which," — she 


THE  FORGERS  3 

finished  almost  hysterically  the  little  speech  she 
had  prepared,  but  it  seemed  to  fall  flat  before 
the  man's  curiously  altered  manner — "  from 
which  7  shall  subtract  one. ' ' 

She  burst  into  tears. 

"  Listen,"  he  urged,  taking  her  arm  gently  to 
lead  her  to  an  easy-chair. 

"  No,  no,  no!  "  she  cried,  now  thoroughly 
aroused,  with  eyes  that  again  snapped  accusa 
tion  and  defiance  at  him,  "  don't  touch  me. 
Talk  to  me,  if  you  want  to,  but  don't,  don't  come 
near  me."  She  was  now  facing  him,  standing 
in  the  high-ceilinged  "  studio,"  as  they  called 
the  room  where  she  had  kept  up  in  a  desultory 
manner  for  her  own  amusement  the  art  studies 
which  had  interested  her  before  her  marriage. 
"  What  is  it  that  you  want  to  say?  The  other 
nights  you  said  nothing  at  all.  Have  you  at  last 
thought  up  an  excuse?  I  hope  it  is  at  least  a 
clever  one." 

"  Constance,"  he  remonstrated,  looking  fear 
fully  about.  Instinctively  she  felt  that  her  ac 
cusation  was  unjust.  Not  even  that  had  dulled 
the  hunted  look  in  his  face.  "  Perhaps — per 
haps  if  it  were  that  of  which  you  suspect  me, 
we  could  patch  it  up.  I  don't  know.  But,  Con 
stance,  I — I  must  leave  for  the  west  on  the  first 
train  in  the  morning."  He  did  not  pause  to 
notice  her  startled  look,  but  raced  on.  "  I 


4  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

have  worked  every  night  this  week  trying  to 
straighten  out  those  accounts  of  mine  by  the 
first  of  the  year  and — and  I  can't  do  it.  An 
expert  begins  on  them  in  a  couple  of  days. 
You  must  call  up  the  office  to-morrow  and  tell 
them  that  I  am  ill,  tell  them  anything.  I  must 
get  at  least  a  day  or  two  start  before  they " 

"  Carlton,"  she  interrupted,  "  what  is  the 
matter?  What  have  you — " 

She  checked  herself  in  surprise.  He  had  been 
fumbling  in  his  pocket  and  now  laid  down  a 
pile  of  green  and  yellow  banknotes  on  the  table. 

"  I  have  scraped  together  every  last  cent  I 
can  spare,"  he  continued,  talking  jerkily  to  sup 
press  his  emotion.  "  They  cannot  take  those 
away  from  you,  Constance.  And — when  I  am 
settled — in  a  new  life,"  he  swallowed  hard  and 
averted  his  eyes  further  from  her  startled  gaze, 
"  under  a  new  name,  somewhere,  if  you  have 
just  a  little  spot  in  your  heart  that  still  re 
sponds  to  me,  I — I — no,  it  is  too  much  even  to 
hope.  Constance,  the  accounts  will  not  come 
out  right  because  I  am — I  am  an  embezzler. ' ' 

He  bit  off  the  word  viciously  and  then  sank 
his  head  into  his  hands  and  bowed  it  to  a  depth 
that  alone  could  express  his  shame. 

Why  did  she  not  say  something,  do  some 
thing?  Some  women  would  have  fainted. 
Some  would  have  denounced  him.  But  she 


stood  there  and  he  dared  not  look  up  to  read 
what  was  written  in  her  face.  He  felt  alone, 
all  alone,  with  every  man's  hand  against  him, 
he  who  had  never  in  all  his  life  felt  so  or  had 
done  anything  to  make  him  feel  so  before.  He 
groaned  as  the  sweat  of  his  mental  and  physical 
agony  poured  coldly  out  on  his  forehead.  All 
that  he  knew  was  that  she  was  standing  there, 
silent,  looking  him  through  and  through,  as 
cold  as  a  statue.  Was  she  the  personification  of 
justice?  Was  this  but  a  foretaste  of  the 
ostracism  of  the  world? 

"  When  we  were  first  married,  Constance, " 
he  began  sadly,  "  I  was  only  a  clerk  for  Green 
&  Co.,  at  two  thousand  a  year.  We  talked  it 
over.  I  stayed  and  in  time  became  cashier  at 
five  thousand.  But  you  know  as  well  as  I  that 
five  thousand  does  not  meet  the  social  obliga 
tions  laid  on  us  by  our  position  in  the  circle  in 
which  we  are  forced  to  move. ' ' 

His  voice  had  become  cold  and  hard,  but  he 
did  not  allow  himself  to  be  betrayed  into  add 
ing,  as  he  might  well  have  done  in  justice  to 
himself,  that  to  her  even  a  thousand  dollars  a 
month  would  have  been  only  a  beginning.  It 
was  not  that  she  had  been  accustomed  to  so 
much  in  the  station  of  life  from  which  he  had 
taken  her.  The  plain  fact  was  that  New  York 
had  had  an  over-tonic  effect  on  her. 


6  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

"  You  were  not  a  nagging  woman,  Con 
stance/'  he  went  on  in  a  somewhat  softened 
tone.  * '  In  fact  you  have  been  a  good  wife ; 
you  have  never  thrown  it  up  to  me  that  I  was 
unable  to  make  good  to  the  degree  of  many  of 
our  friends  in  purely  commercial  lines.  All  you 
have  ever  said  is  the  truth.  A  banking  house 
pays  low  for  its  brains.  My  God!  "  he  cried 
stiffening  out  in  the  chair  and  clenching  his 
fists, ' '  it  pays  low  for  its  temptations,  too. ' ' 

There  had  been  nothing  in  the  world  Carlton 
would  not  have  given  to  make  happy  the  woman 
who  stood  now,  leaning  on  the  table  in  cold 
silence,  with  averted  head,  regarding  neither 
him  nor  the  pile  of  greenbacks. 

"  Hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars  passed 
through  my  hands  every  week,"  he  resumed. 
"  That  business  owed  me  for  my  care  of  it. 
It  was  taking  the  best  in  me  and  in  return  was 
not  paying  what  other  businesses  paid  for  the 
best  in  other  men.  When  a  man  gets  thinking 
that  way,  with  a  woman  whom  he  loves  as  I 
love  you — something  happens. ' ' 

He  paused  in  the  bitterness  of  his  thoughts. 
She  moved  as  if  to  speak.  ' '  No,  no, ' '  he  inter 
rupted.  "  Hear  me  out  first.  All  I  asked  was 
a  chance  to  employ  a  little  of  the  money  that  I 
saw  about  me — not  to  take  it,  but  to  employ  it 
for  a  little  while,  a  few  days,  perhaps  only  a 


THE  FORGERS  7 

few  hours.  Money  breeds  money.  Why  should 
I  not  use  some  of  this  idle  money  to  pay  me 
what  I  ought  to  have? 

"  When  Mr.  Green  was  away  last  summer  I 
heard  some  inside  news  about  a  certain  stock. 
So  it  happened  that  I  began  to  juggle  the  ac 
counts.  It  is  too  long  a  story  to  tell  how  I  did 
it.  Anybody  in  my  position  could  have  done 
it — for  a  time.  It  would  not  interest  you  any 
how.  But  I  did  it.  The  first  venture  was  suc 
cessful.  Also  the  spending  of  the  money  was 
very  successful,  in  its  way.  That  was  the  money 
that  took  us  to  the  fashionable  hotel  in  Atlantic 
City  where  we  met  so  many  people.  Instead  of 
helping  me,  it  got  me  in  deeper. 

"  When  the  profit  from  this  first  deal  was 
spent  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  repeat 
what  I  had  done  successfully  before.  I  could 
not  quit  now.  I  tried  again,  a  little  hypotheca 
tion  of  some  bonds.  Stocks  went  down.  I  had 
made  a  bad  bet  and  five  thousand  dollars  was 
wiped  out,  a  whole  year's  salary.  I  tried  again, 
and  wiped  out  five  thousand  more.  I  was  at 
my  wits'  end.  I  have  borrowed  under  fictitious 
names,  used  names  of  obscure  persons  as  bor 
rowers,  have  put  up  dummy  security.  It  was 
possible  because  I  controlled  the  audits.  But 
it  has  done  no  good.  The  losses  have  far  out- 


8  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

balanced  the  winnings  and  to-day  I  am  in  for 
twenty -five  thousand  dollars. ' ' 

She  was  watching  him  now  with  dilating  eyes 
as  the  horror  of  the  situation  was  burned  into 
her  soul.  He  raced  on,  afraid  to  pause  lest  she 
should  interrupt  him. 

1 '  Mr.  Green  has  been  talked  into  introducing 
scientific  management  and  a  new  system  into  the 
business  by  a  certified  public  accountant,  an  ex 
pert  in  installing  systems  and  discovering  irreg 
ularities.  Here  I  am,  faced  by  certain  ex 
posure,"  he  went  on,  pacing  the  floor  and  look 
ing  everywhere  but  .at  her  face.  *  *  What  should 
I  do?  Borrow?  It  is  useless.  I  have  no 
security  that  anyone  would  accept. 

1 1  There  is  just  one  thing  left. ' '  He  lowered 
his  voice  until  it  almost  sank  into  a  hoarse 
whisper.  "  I  must  cut  loose.  I  have  scraped 
together  what  I  can  and  I  have  borrowed  on 
my  life  insurance.  Here  on  the  table  is  all  that 
I  can  spare. 

"  To-night,  the  last  night,  I  have  worked 
frantically  in  a  vain  hope  that  something,  some 
way  would  at  last  turn  up.  It  has  not.  There 
is  no  other  way  out.  In  despair  I  have  put  this 
off  until  the  last  moment  But  I  have  thought 
of  nothing  else  for  a  week.  Good  God,  Con 
stance,  I  have  reached  the  mental  state  where 
even  intoxicants  fail  to  intoxicate. ' ' 


THE  FOEGEES  9 

He  dropped  back  again  into  the  deep  chair 
and  sank  his  head  again  on  his  hands.  He 
groaned  as  he  thought  of  the  agony  of  pack 
ing  a  bag  and  slinking  for  the  Western  ex 
press  through  the  crowds  at  the  railroad  ter 
minal. 

Still  Constance  was  silent  Through  her 
mind  was  running  the  single  thought  that  she 
had  misjudged  him.  There  had  been  no  other 
woman  in  the  case.  As  he  spoke,  there  came 
flooding  into  her  heart  the  sudden  realization  of 
the  truth.  He  had  done  it  for  her. 

It  was  a  rude  and  bitter  awakening  after  the 
past  months  when  the  increased  income,  with  no 
questions  asked,  had  made  her  feel  that  they 
were  advancing.  She  passed  her  hands  over  her 
eyes,  but  there  it  was  still,  not  a  dream  but  a 
harsh  reality.  If  she  could  only  have  gone  back 
and  undone  it!  But  what  was  done,  was  done. 
She  was  amazed  at  herself.  It  was  not  horror 
of  the  deed  that  sent  an  icy  shudder  over  her. 
It  was  horror  of  exposure. 

He  had  done  it  for  her.  Over  and  over  again 
that  thought  raced  through  her  mind.  She 
steeled  herself  at  last  to  speak.  She  hardly 
knew  what  was  in  her  own  mind,  what  the  con 
flicting,  surging  emotions  of  her  own  heart 
meant 


10  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

"  And  so,  you  are  leaving  me  what  is  left, 
leaving  me  in  disgrace,  and  you  are  going  to  do 
the  best  you  can  to  get  away  safely.  You  want 
me  to  tell  one  last  lie  for  you." 

There  was  an  unnatural  hollowness  in  her 
voice  which  he  did  not  understand,  but  which  cut 
him  to  the  quick.  He  had  killed  love.  He  was 
alone.  He  knew  it.  With  a  final  effort  he  tried 
to  moisten  his  parched  lips  to  answer.  At  last, 
in  a  husky  voice,  he  managed  to  say, 
"Yes." 

But  with  all  his  power  of  will  he  could  not 
look  at  her. 

"  Carlton  Dunlap,"  she  cried,  leaning  both 
hands  for  support  on  the  table,  bending  over 
and  at  last  forcing  him  to  look  her  in  the  eyes, 
"  do  you  know  what  I  think  of  you?  I  think 
you  are  a  damned  coward.  There !  ' ' 

Instead  of  tears  and  recriminations,  instead 
of  the  conventional  "  How  could  you  do  it?  " 
instead  of  burning  denunciation  of  him  for  ruin 
ing  her  life,  he  read  something  else  in  her  face. 
What  was  it? 

"  Coward?  "  he  repeated  slowly.  "  What 
would  you  have  me  do — take  you  with  me?  " 

She  tossed  her  head  contemptuously. 

"  Stay  and  face  it?  "  he  hazarded  again. 

"  Is  there  no  other  way?  "  she  asked,  still 
leaning  forward  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  his. 


THE  FORGEKS  11 

"  Think!  Is  there  no  way  that  you  could  avoid 
discovery  just  for  a  time?  Carlton,  you — we 
are  cornered.  Is  there  no  desperate  chancel  ' 

He  shook  his  head  sadly. 

Her  eyes  wandered  momentarily  about  the 
studio,  until  they  rested  on  an  easel.  On  it  stood 
a  water  color  on  which  she  had  been  working, 
trying  to  put  into  it  some  of  the  feeling  which 
she  would  never  have  put  into  words  for  him. 
On  the  walls  of  the  apartment  were  pen  and  ink 
sketches,  scores  of  little  things  which  she  had 
done  for  her  own  amusement.  She  bit  her  lip 
as  an  idea  flashed  through  her  mind. 

He  shook  his  head  again  mournfully. 

* l  Somewhere, ' '  she  said  slowly, ' '  I  have  read 
that  clever  forgers  use  water  colors  and  pen 
and  ink  like  regular  artists.  Think — think !  Is 
there  no  way  that  we — that  I  could  forge  a  check 
that  would  give  us  breathing  space,  perhaps 
rescue  us  ?  ' ' 

Carlton  leaned  over  the  table  toward  her, 
fascinated.  He  placed  both  his  hands  on  hers. 
They  were  icy,  but  she  did  not  withdraw 
them. 

For  an  instant  they  looked  into  each  other's 
eyes,  an  instant,  and  then  they  understood. 
They  were  partners  in  crime,  amateurs  perhaps, 
but  partners  as  they  had  been  in  honesty. 

It  was  a  new  idea  that  she  had  suggested  to 


12  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

him.  Why  should  he  not  act  on  it?  Why 
hesitate?  Why  stop  at  it!  He  was  already  an 
embezzler.  Why  not  add  a  new  crime  to  the  list? 
As  he  looked  into  her  eyes  he  felt  a  new 
strength.  Together  they  could  do  it.  Hers  was 
the  brain  that  had  conceived  the  way  out.  She 
had  the  will,  the  compelling  power  to  carry  the 
thing  through.  He  would  throw  himself  on  her 
intuition,  her  brain,  her  skill,  her  daring. 

On  his  desk  in  the  corner,  where  often  until 
far  into  the  night  he  had  worked  on  the  huge 
ruled  sheets  of  paper  covered  with  figures  of 
the  firm's  accounts,  he  saw  two  goose-necked 
vials,  one  of  lemon-colored  liquid,  the  other  of 
raspberry  color.  One  was  of  tartaric  acid,  the 
other  of  chloride  of  lime.  It  was  an  ordinary 
ink  eradicator.  Near  the  bottles  lay  a  rod  of 
glass  with  a  curious  tip,  an  ink  eraser  made  of 
finely  spun  glass  threads  which  scraped  away 
the  surface  of  the  paper  more  delicately  than 
any  other  tool  that  had  been  devised.  There 
were  the  materials  for  his,  their  rehabilitation  if 
they  were  placed  in  his  wife 's  deft  artist  fingers. 
Here  was  all  the  chemistry  and  artistry  of 
forgery  at  hand. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  eagerly,  "  there  is  a 
way,  Constance.  Together  we  can  do  it " 

There  was  no  time  for  tenderness  between 
them  now.  It  was  cold,  hard  fact  and  they 


THE  FORGERS  13 

understood  each  other  too   well  to   stop  for 
endearments. 

Far  into  the  night  they  sat  up  and  discussed 
the  way  in  which  they  would  go  about  the 
crime.  They  practised  with  erasers  and  with 
brush  and  water  color  on  the  protective  color 
ing  tint  on  some  canceled  checks  of  his  own. 
Carlton  must  get  a  check  of  a  firm  in  town,  a 
check  that  bore  a  genuine  signature.  In  it  they 
would  make  such  trifling  changes  in  the  body 
as  would  attract  no  attention  in  passing,  yet 
would  yield  a  substantial  sum  toward  wiping 
out  Carlton 's  unfortunate  deficit. 

Late  as  he  had  worked  the  night  before, 
nervous  and  shaky  as  he  felt  after  the  sleepless 
hours  of  planning  their  new  life,  Carlton  was 
the  first  at  the  office  in  the  morning.  His  hand 
trembled  as  he  ran  through  the  huge  batch  of 
mail  already  left  at  the  first  delivery.  He 
paused  as  he  came  to  one  letter  with  the  name 
"  W.  J.  REYNOLDS  CO."  on  it. 

Here  was  a  check  in  payment  of  a  small  bill, 
he  knew.  It  was  from  a  firm  which  habitually 
kept  hundreds  of  thousands  on  deposit  at  the 
Gorham  Bank.  It  fitted  the  case  admirably. 
He  slit  open  the  letter.  There,  neatly  folded, 
was  the  check: 


14  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

No.  15711.  Dec.  27,  191—. 

THE  GORHAM  NATIONAL  BANK 

Pay  to  the  order  of Green  &  Co 

Twenty-five  00/100    Dollars 

$25.00/100 

"W.  J.  REYNOLDS  Co., 
per  CHAS.  M.  BROWN,  Treas. 

It  flashed  over  him  in  a  moment  what  to  do. 
Twenty-five  thousand  would  just  about  cover 
his  shortage.  The  Reynolds  firm  was  a  big 
one,  doing  big  transactions.  He  slipped  the 
check  into  his  pocket.  The  check  might  have 
been  stolen  in  the  mail.  Why  not? 

The  journey  uptown  was  most  excruciatingly 
long,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  had  met  no  one 
he  knew  either  at  the  office  or  outside.  At  last 
he  arrived  home,  to  find  Constance  waiting 
anxiously. 

"  Did  you  get  a  check?  "  she  asked,  hardly 
waiting  for  his  reply.  "  Let  me  see  it.  Give 
it  to  me." 

The  coolness  with  which  she  went  about  it 
amazed  him.  "  It  has  the  amount  punched  on 
it  with  a  check  punch,"  she  observed  as  she 
ran  her  quick  eye  over  it  while  he  explained  his 


THE  FORGERS  15 

plan.  "  We'll  have  to  fill  up  some  of  those 
holes  made  by  the  punch." 

11  I  know  the  kind  they  used,"  he  answered. 
"  I'll  get  one  and  a  desk  check  from  the 
Gorham.  You  do  the  artistic  work,  my  dear. 
My  knowledge  of  check  punches,  watermarks, 
and  paper  will  furnsh  the  rest.  I'll  be  back 
directly.  Don't  forget  to  call  up  the  office  a 
little  before  the  time  I  usually  arrive  there  and 
tell  them  I  am  ill." 

With  her  light-fingered  touch  she  worked 
feverishly,  partly  with  the  liquid  ink  eradi- 
cator,  but  mostly  with  the  spun-glass  eraser. 
First  she  rubbed  out  the  cents  after  the  written 
figure  "  Twenty-five."  Carefully  with  a  blunt 
instrument  she  smoothed  down  the  roughened 
surface  of  the  paper  so  that  the  ink  would  not 
run  in  the  fibers  and  blot.  Over  and  over  she 
practised  writing  the  "  Thousand  "  in  a  hand 
like  that  on  the  check.  She  already  had  the 
capital  "  T  "  in  "  Twenty  "  as  a  guide.  Dur 
ing  the  night  in  practising  she  had  found  that  in 
raising  checks  only  seven  capital  letters  were 
used — 0  in  one,  T  in  two,  three,  ten,  and  thou 
sand,  F  in  four  and  five,  S  in  six  and  seven,  E 
in  eight,  N  in  nine  and  H  in  hundred. 

At  last  even  her  practice  satisfied  her.  Then 
with  a  coolness  born  only  of  desperation  she 
wrote  in  the  words,  "  Thousand  00/100." 


16  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

When  she  had  done  it  she  stopped  to  wonder 
at  herself.  She  was  amazed  and  perhaps  a 
little  frightened  at  how  readily  she  adapted  her 
self  to  the  crime  of  forgery.  She  did  not  know 
that  it  was  one  of  the  few  crimes  in  which 
women  had  proved  themselves  most  proficient, 
though  she  felt  her  own  proficiency  and  native 
ability  for  copying. 

Again  the  eraser  came  into  play  to  remove 
the  cents  after  the  figure  ' '  25. '  '  A  comma  and 
three  zeros  following  it  were  inserted,  followed 
by  a  new ' '  00/100. ' '  The  signature  was  left  un 
touched. 

Erasing  the  name  of  "  Green  &  Co.,"  pre 
sented  greater  difficulties,  but  it  was  accom 
plished  with  as  little  loss  of  the  protective 
coloring  on  the  surface  of  the  check  as  possible. 
Then  after  the  "  Pay  to  the  order  of  "  she 
wrote  in,  as  her  husband  had  directed,  "  The 
Carlton  Eealty  Co." 

Next  came  the  water  color  to  restore  the  pro 
tective  tint  where  the  glass  eraser  and  the  acids 
had  removed  it.  There  was  much  delicate 
matching  of  tints  and  careful  painting  in  with 
a  fine  camel 's  hair  brush,  until  at  last  the  color 
of  those  parts  where  there  had  been  an  erasure 
was  apparently  as  good  as  any  other  part. 

Of  course,  under  the  microscope  there  could 
have  been  seen  the  angry  crisscrossing  of  the 


THE  FORGERS  17 

fibers  of  the  paper  due  to  the  harsh  action  of 
the  acids  and  the  glass  eraser.  Still,  painting 
the  whole  thing  over  with  a  little  resinous  liquid 
somewhat  restored  the  glaze  to  the  paper,  at 
least  sufficiently  to  satisfy  a  cursory  glance  of 
the  naked  eye. 

There  remained  the  difficulty  of  the  pro 
tective  punch  marks.  There  they  were,  a  star 
cut  out  of  the  check  itself,  a  dollar  sign  and  25 
followed  by  another  star. 

She  was  still  admiring  her  handiwork,  giv 
ing  it  here  and  there  a  light  little  fillip  with  the 
brush  and  comparing  this  check  with  some  of 
those  which  had  been  practised  on  last  night, 
to  see  whether  she  had  made  any  improvement 
in  her  technique  of  forgery,  when  Carlton  re 
turned  with  the  punch  and  the  blank  checks  on 
the  Gorham  Bank. 

From  one  of  the  blank  checks  he  punched  out 
a  number  of  little  stars  until  there  was  one 
which  in  watermark  and  scroll  work  corre 
sponded  precisely  with  that  punched  out  in  the 
original  check. 

Constance,  whose  fingers  had  long  been  ac 
customed  to  fine  work,  fitted  in  the  little  star 
after  the  *$25*,  then  took  it  out,  moistened  the 
edges  ever  so  lightly  with  glue  on  the  end  of  a 
toothpick,  and  pasted  it  back  again.  A  hot  iron 


18  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

completed  the  work  of  making  the  edges  smooth 
and  unless  a  rather  powerful  glass  had  been 
used  no  one  could  have  seen  the  pasted-in  inser 
tion  after  the  *$25. 

Careful  not  to  deviate  the  fraction  of  a  hair 's 
breadth  from  the  alignment  Carlton  took  the 
punch,  added  three  O's,  and  a  star  after  the  25, 
making  it  *$25,000*.  Finally  the  whole  thing 
was  again  ironed  to  give  it  the  smoothness  of 
an  original.  Here  at  last  was  the  completed 
work,  the  first  product  of  their  combined  skill 
in  crime : 

No.  15711.  Dec.  27, 191—. 

THE  GOKHAM  NATIONAL  BANK 

Pay  to  the  order  of ...  The  Carlton  Eealty  Co. 

Twenty-five  Thousand  00/100 Dollars 

$25,000.00/100 

"W.  J.  REYNOLDS  Co., 
per  CHAS.  M.  BKOWN,  Treas. 

How  completely  people  may  change,  even 
within  a  few  hours,  was  well  illustrated  as  they 
stood  side  by  side  and  regarded  their  work 
with  as  much  pride  as  if  it  had  been  the  result 
of  their  honest  efforts  of  years.  They  were 
now  pen  and  brush  crooks  of  the  first  caliber, 


THE  FOEGEES  19 

had  reduced  forgery  to  a  fine  art  and  demon 
strated  what  an  amateur  might  do.  For,  al 
though  they  did  not  know  it,  nearly  half  the 
fifteen  millions  or  so  lost  by  forgeries  every 
year  was  the  work  of  amateurs  such  as  they. 

The  next  problem  was  presenting  the  check 
for  collection.  Of  course  Carlton  could  not  put 
it  through  his  own  bank,  unless  he  wanted  to 
leave  a  blazed  trail  straight  to  himself.  Only 
a  colossal  bluff  would  do,  and  in  a  city  where 
only  colossal  bluffs  succeed  it  was  not  so  im 
possible  as  might  have  been  first  imagined. 

Luncheon  over,  they  sauntered  casually  into 
a  high-class  office  building  on  Broadway  where 
thftre  were  offices  to  rent.  The  agent  was  duly 
impressed  by  the  couple  who  talked  of  their 
Jarge  real  estate  dealings.  Where  he  might 
have  been  thoroughly  suspicious  of  a  man  and 
might  have  asked  many  embarrassing  but  per 
fectly  proper  questions,  he  accepted  the  woman 
without  a  murmur.  At  her  suggestion  he  even 
consented  to  take  his  new  tenants  around  to 
the  Uptown  Bank  and  introduce  them.  They 
made  an  excellent  impression  by  a  first  cash 
deposit  of  the  money  Carlton  had  thrown  down 
on  the  table  the  night  before.  A  check  for  the 
first  month 's  rent  more  than  mollified  the  agent 
and  talk  of  a  big  deal  that  was  just  being  signed 
up  to-day  duly  impressed  the  bank. 


20  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

The  next  problem  was  to  get  the  forged  check 
certified.  That,  also,  proved  a  very  simple 
matter.  Any  one  can  walk  into  a  bank  and  get 
a  check  for  $25,000  certified,  while  if  he  ap 
pears,  a  stranger,  before  the  window  of  the 
paying  teller  to  cash  a  check  for  twenty-five 
dollars  he  would  almost  be  thrown  out  of  the 
bank.  Banks  will  certify  at  a  glance  practically 
any  check  that  looks  right,  but  they  pass  on 
the  responsibility  of  cashing  them.  Thus  be* 
fore  the  close  of  banking  hours  Dunlap  was 
able  to  deposit  in  his  new  bank  the  check 
certified  by  the  Gorham. 

Twenty-four  hours  must  elapse  before  he 
could  draw  against  the  check  which  he  had  de 
posited.  He  did  not  propose  to  waste  that  time, 
so  that  the  next  day  found  him  at  Green  &  Co.  's, 
feeling  much  better.  Really  he  had  come  pre 
pared  now  to  straighten  out  the  books,  know 
ing  that  in  a  few  hours  he  could  make  good. 

The  first  hesitation  due  to  the  newness  of  the 
game  had  worn  off  by  this  time.  Nothing  at  all 
of  an  alarming  nature  had  happened.  The 
new  month  had  already  begun  and  as  most 
firms  have  their  accounts  balanced  only  once  a 
month,  he  had,  he  reasoned,  nearly  the  entire 
four  weeks  in  which  to  operate. 

Conscience  was  dulled  in  Constance,  also,  and 
she  was  now  busy  with  ink  eraser,  the  water 


THE  FORGERS  21 

colors,  and  other  paraphernalia  in  a  wholesale 
raising  of  checks,  mostly  for  amounts  smaller 
than  that  in  the  first  attempt. 

"  We  are  taking  big  chances,  anyway, "  she 
urged  him.  "  Why  quit  yet?  A  few  days  more 
and  we  may  land  something  worth  while.'* 

The  next  day  he  excused  himself  from  the 
office  for  a  while  and  presented  himself  at  his 
new  bank  with  a  sheaf  of  new  checks  which  she 
had  raised,  all  certified,  and  totaling  some  thou 
sands  more. 

His  own  check  for  twenty-five  thousand  was 
now  honored.  The  relief  which  he  felt  was 
tremendous  after  the  weeks  of  grueling  anxiety. 
At  once  he  hurried  to  a  broker's  and  placed  an 
order  for  the  stocks  he  had  used  on  which  to 
borrow.  He  could  now  replace  everything  in. 
the  safe,  straighten  out  the  books,  could  make 
everything  look  right  to  the  systematizer,  could 
blame  any  apparent  irregularity  on  his  old 
system.  Even  ignorance  was  better  than  dis 
honesty. 

Constance,  meanwhile,  had  installed  herself 
in  the  little  office  they  had  hired,  as  stenog 
rapher  and  secretary.  Once  having  embarked 
on  the  hazardous  enterprise  she  showed  no  dis 
position  to  give  it  up  yet.  An  office  boy  was 
hired  and  introduced  at  the  bank. 

The  mythical  realty  company  prospered,  at 


22  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

least  if  prosperity  is  measured  merely  by  the 
bank  book.  In  less  than  a  week  the  skilful  pen 
and  brush  of  Constance  had  secured  them  a 
balance,  after  straightening  out  Carlton's  debts, 
that  came  well  up  to  a  hundred  thousand  dol 
lars,  mostly  in  small  checks,  some  with  genuine 
signatures  and  amounts  altered,  others  com 
plete  forgeries. 

As  they  went  deeper  and  deeper,  Constance 
began  to  feel  the  truth  of  their  situation.  It  was 
she  who  was  really  at  the  helm  in  this  enter 
prise.  It  had  been  her  idea ;  the  execution  of  it 
had  been  mainly  her  work;  Carlton  had  fur 
nished  merely  the  business  knowledge  that  she 
did  not  possess.  The  more  she  thought  of  it  dur 
ing  the  hours  in  the  little  office  while  he  was  at 
work  downtown,  the  more  uneasy  did  she  be 
come. 

What  if  he  should  betray  himself  in  some 
way?  She  was  sure  of  herself.  But  she  was  al 
most  afraid  to  let  him  go  out  of  her  sight.  She 
felt  a  sinking  sensation  every  time  he  mentioned 
any  of  the  happenings  in  the  banking  house. 
Could  he  be  trusted  alone  not  to  betray  himself 
when  the  first  hint  of  discovery  of  something 
wrong  camel 

It  was  now  near  the  middle  of  the  month.  It 
would  not  pay  to  wait  until  the  end.  Some  one 


THE  FORGERS  23 

of  the  many  firms  whose  checks  they  had  forged 
might  have  its  book  balanced  at  any  time  now. 
From  day  to  day  small  amounts  in  cash  had  al 
ready  been  withdrawn  until  they  were  twenty 
thousand  dollars  to  the  good.  They  planned  to 
draw  out  thirty  thousand  now  at  one  time. 
That  would  give  them  fifty  thousand,  roughly 
half  of  their  forgeries. 

The  check  was  written  and  the  office  boy  was 
started  to  the  bank  with  it.  Carlton  followed 
him  at  a  distance,  as  he  had  on  other  occasions, 
ready  to  note  the  first  sign  of  trouble  as  the  boy 
waited  at  the  teller's  window.  At  last  the  boy 
was  at  the  head  of  the  line.  He  had  passed  the 
check  in  and  his  satchel  was  lying  open,  with 
voracious  maw,  on  the  ledge  below  the  wicket 
for  the  greedy  feeding  of  stacks  of  bills.  "Why 
did  the  teller  not  raise  the  wicket  and  shove  out 
the  money  in  a  coveted  pile  T  Carlton  seemed  to 
feel  that  something  was  wrong.  The  line 
lengthened  and  those  at  the  end  of  the  queue  be 
gan  to  grow  restive  at  the  delay.  One  of  the 
bank's  officers  walked  down  and  spoke  to  the 
boy. 

Carlton  waited  no  longer.  The  game  was  up. 
He  rushed  from  his  coign  of  observation,  out 
of  the  bank  building,  and  dashed  into  a  tele 
phone  booth. 

"  Quick,   Constance, "  he  shouted  over  the 


24  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

wire,  *  *  leave  everything.  They  are  holding  up 
our  check.  They  have  discovered  something. 
Take  a  cab  and  drive  slowly  around  the  square. 
You  will  find  me  waiting  for  you  at  the  north 
end." 

That  night  the  newspapers  were  full  of  the 
story.  There  was  the  whole  thing,  exaggerated, 
distorted,  multiplied,  until  they  had  become 
swindlers  of  millions  instead  of  thousands.  But 
nevertheless  it  was  their  story.  There  was  only 
one  grain  of  consolation.  It  was  in  the  last 
paragraph  of  the  news  item,  and  read : '  *  There 
seems  to  be  no  trace  of  the  man  and  woman 
who  worked  this  clever  swindle.  As  if  by  a 
telepathic  message  they  have  vanished  at  just 
the  time  when  their  whole  house  of  cards  col 
lapsed.  ' ' 

They  removed  every  vestige  of  their  work 
from  the  apartment.  Everything  was  de 
stroyed.  Constance  even  began  a  new  water 
color  so  that  that  might  suggest  that  she  had 
not  laid  aside  her  painting. 

They  had  played  for'  a  big  stake  and  lost. 
But  the  twenty  thousand  dollars  was  something. 
Now  the  great  problem  was  to  conceal  it  and 
themselves.  They  had  lost,  yet  if  ever  before 
they  loved,  it  was  as  nothing  to  what  it  was  now 
that  they  had  tasted  together  the  bitter  and  the 
sweet  of  their  mutual  crime. 


THE  FORGERS  25 

Carlton  went  down  to  the  office  the  next  day, 
just  as  before.  The  anxious  hours  that  his  wife 
had  previously  spent  thinking  whether  he  might 
betray  himself  by  some  slip  were  comparative 
safety  as  contrasted  with  the  uncertainty  of  the 
hours  now.  But  the  first  day  after  the  alarm  of 
the  discovery  passed  off  all  right.  Carlton 
even  discussed  the  case,  his  case,  with  those 
in  the  office,  commented  on  it,  condemned  the 
swindlers,  and  carried  it  off,  he  felt  proud  to 
say,  as  well  as  Constance  herself  might  have 
done  had  she  been  in  his  place. 

Another  day  passed.  His  account  of  the  first 
day,  reassuring  as  it  had  been  to  her,  did  not 
lessen  the  anxiety.  Yet  never  before  had  they 
seemed  to  be  bound  together  by  such  ties  as 
knitted  their  very  souls  in  this  crisis.  She  tried 
with  a  devotion  that  was  touching  to  impart  to 
him  some  of  her  own  strength  to  ward  off  de 
tection. 

It  was  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day  that 
a  man  who  gave  the  name  of  Drummond  called 
and  presented  a  card  of  the  Reynolds  Company. 

"  Have  you  ever  been  paid  a  little  bill  of 
twenty-five  dollars  by  our  company  ?  ' '  he  asked. 

Down  in  his  heart  Carlton  knew  that  this 
man  was  a  detective.  "  I  can't  say  without 
looking  it  up,"  he  replied. 


26  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

Carlton  touched  a  button  and  an  assistant 
appeared.  Something  outside  himself  seemed 
to  nerve  him  up,  as  he  asked:  "  Look  up  our 
account  with  Reynolds,  and  see  if  we  have  been 
paid — what  is  it? — a  bill  for  twenty -five  dol 
lars.  Do  you  recall  it?  " 

"  Yes,  I  recall  it,"  replied  the  assistant. 
"  No,  Mr.  Dunlap,  I  don't  think  it  has  been 
paid.  It  is  a  small  matter,  but  we  sent  them  a 
duplicate  bill  yesterday.  I  thought  the  original 
must  have  gone  astray." 

Carlton  cursed  him  inwardly  for  sending  the 
bill.  But  then,  he  reasoned,  it  was  only  a  ques 
tion  of  time,  after  all,  when  the  forgery  would 
be  discovered. 

Drummond  dropped  into  a  half-confidential, 
half -quizzing  tone.  "  I  thought  not.  Some 
where  along  the  line  that  check  has  been  stolen 
and  raised  to  twenty-five  thousand  dollars, ' '  he 
remarked. 

"  Is  that  so?  "  gasped  Carlton,  trying  hard 
to  show  just  the  right  amount  of  surprise  and 
not  too  much.  "  Is  that  so?  ' 

'*  No  doubt  you  have  read  in  the  papers  of 
this  clever  realty  company  swindle?  Well,  it 
seems  to  have  been  part  of  that. ' ' 

"  I  am  sure  that  we  shall  be  glad  to  do  all 
in  our  power  to  cooperate  with  Eeynolds,"  put 
in  Dunlap. 


THE  FORGERS  27 

"  I  thought  you  would,"  commented  Drum- 
mond  dryly.  "  I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  I 
fear  some  one  has  been  tampering  with  your 
mail. ' ' 

"  Tampering  with  our  mail?  '  repeated 
Dunlap,  aghast.  "  Impossible." 

"  Nothing  is  impossible  until  it  is  proved  so," 
answered  Drummond,  looking  him  straight  in 
the  eyes.  Carlton  did  not  flinch.  He  felt  a  new 
power  within  himself,  gained  during  the  past 
few  days  of  new  association  with  Constance. 
For  her  he  could  face  anything. 

But  when  Drummond  was  gone  he  felt  as  he 
had  on  the  night  when  he  had  finally  realized 
that  he  could  never  cover  up  the  deficit  in  his 
books.  With  an  almost  superhuman  effort  he 
gripped  himself.  Interminably  the  hours  of  the 
rest  of  the  day  dragged  on. 

That  night  he  sank  limp  into  a  chair  on  his 
return  home.  "  A  man  named  Drummond  was 
in  the  office  to-day,  my  dear, ' '  he  said.  '  *  Some 
one  in  the  office  sent  Reynolds  a  duplicate  bill, 
and  they  know  about  the  check." 

"  Well?  " 

"  I  wonder  if  they  suspect  me?  ' 

"  If  you  act  like  that,  they  won't  suspect. 
They'll  arrest,"  she  commented  sarcastically. 

He  had  braced  up  again  into  his  new  self  at 
her  words.  But  there  was  again  that  sinking 


28  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

sensation  in  her  heart,  as  she  realized  that  it 
was,  after  all,  herself  on  whom  he  depended, 
that  it  was  she  who  had  been  the  will,  even 
thongh  he  had  been  the  intellect  of  their  enter 
prise.  She  could  not  overcome  the  feeling  that, 
if  only  their  positions  could  be  reversed,  the 
thing  might  even  yet  be  carried  through. 

Drummond  appeared  again  at  the  office  the 
next  day.  There  was  no  concealment  about  him 
now.  He  said  frankly  that  he  was  from  the 
Burr  Detective  Agency,  whose  business  it  was 
to  guard  the  banks  against  forgeries. 

"  The  pen  work,  or,  as  we  detectives  call  it, 
the  penning,"  he  remarked,  "  in  the  case  of 
that  check  is  especially  good.  It  shows  rare 
skill.  But  the  pitfalls  in  this  forgery  game  are 
so  many  that,  in  avoiding  one,  a  forger,  ever  so 
clever,  falls  into  another. " 

Carlton  felt  the  polite  third  degree,  as  he 
proceeded:  "  Nowadays  the  forger  has  science 
to  contend  with,  too.  The  microscope  and 
camera  may  come  in  a  little  too  late  to  be  of 
practical  use  in  preventing  the  forger  from 
getting  his  money  at  first,  but  they  come  in  very 
neatly  later  in  catching  him.  What  the  naked 
eye  cannot  see  in  this  check  they  reveal.  Be 
sides,  a  little  iodine  vapor  brings  out  the 
original  '  Green  &  Co.'  on  it. 


THE  FORGERS  29 

"  We  have  found  out  also  that  the  protective 
coloring  was  restored  by  water  color.  That  was 
easy.  Where  the  paper  was  scratched  and  the 
sizing  taken  off,  it  has  been  painted  with  a 
resinous  substance  to  restore  the  glaze,  to  the 
eye.  Well,  a  little  alcohol  takes  that  off,  too. 
Oh,  the  amateur  forger  may  be  the  most  danger 
ous  kind,  because  the  professional  regularly  fol 
lows  the  same  line,  leaves  tracks,  has  associates, 
but,"  he  concluded  impressively,  "  all  are 
caught  sooner  or  later — sooner  or  later." 

Dunlap  managed  to  maintain  his  outward 
composure  admirably.  Still  the  little  lifting  of 
the  curtain  on  the  hidden  mysteries  of  the  new 
detective  art  produced  its  effect.  They  were 
getting  closer,  and  Dunlap  knew  it,  as  Drum- 
mond  intended  he  should.  And,  as  in  every 
crisis,  he  turned  naturally  to  Constance.  Never 
had  she  meant  so  much  to  him  as  now. 

That  night  as  he  entered  the  apartment  he 
happened  to  glance  behind  him.  In  the  shadow 
down  the  street  a  man  dodged  quickly  behind  a 
tree.  The  thing  gave  him  a  start.  He  was  being 
watched. 

11  There  is  just  one  thing  left,"  he  cried  ex 
citedly  as  he  hurried  upstairs  with  the  news. 
"  We  must  both  disappear  this  time." 

Constance  took  it  very  calmly.  "  But  we 
must  not  go  together,"  she  added  quickly,  her 


30  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

fertile  mind,  as  ever,  hitting  directly  on  a  plan 
of  action.  "  If  we  separate,  they  will  be  less 
likely  to  trace  us,  for  they  will  never  think  we 
would  do  that." 

It  was  evident  that  the  words  were  being 
forced  out  by  the  conflict  of  common  sense  and 
deep  emotion.  * '  Perhaps  it  will  be  best  for  you 
to  stick  to  your  original  idea  of  going  west.  I 
shall  go  to  one  of  the  winter  resorts.  We  shall 
communicate  only  through  the  personal  column 
of  the  Star.  Sign  yourself  Weston.  I  shall  sign 
Easton." 

The  words  fell  on  Carlton  with  his  new  and 
deeper  love  for  her  like  a  death  sentence.  It 
had  never  entered  his  mind  that  they  were  to  be 
separated  now.  Dissolve  their  partnership  in 
crime?  To  him  it  seemed  as  if  they  had  just 
begun  to  live  since  that  night  when  they  had  at 
last  understood  each  other.  And  it  had  come 
to  this — separation. 

"  A  man  can  always  shift  for  himself  better 
if  he  has  no  impediments,"  she  said,  speaking 
rapidly  as  if  to  bolster  up  her  own  resolution. 
"  A  woman  is  always  an  impediment  in  a  crisis 
like  this." 

In  her  face  he  saw  what  he  had  never  seen 
before.  There  was  love  in  it  that  would  sacrifice 
everything.  She  was  sending  him  away  from 
her,  not  to  save  herself  but  to  save  him.  Vainly 


THE  FORGERS  31 

he  attempted  to  protest.  She  placed  her  finger 
on  his  lips.  Never  before  had  he  felt  such  over 
powering  love  for  her.  And  yet  she  held  him 
in  check  in  spite  of  himself. 

"  Take  enough  to  last  a  few  months,"  she 
added  hastily.  ' '  Give  me  the  rest.  I  can  hide 
it  and  take  care  of  myself.  Even  if  they  trace 
me  I  can  get  off.  A  woman  can  always  do  that 
more  easily  than  a  man.  Don't  worry  about  me. 
Go  somewhere,  start  a  new  life.  If  it  takes 
years,  I  will  wait.  Let  me  know  where  you  are. 
We  can  find  some  way  in  which  I  can  come  back 
into  your  life.  No,  no," — Carl  ton  had  caught 
her  passionately  in  his  arms — "  even  that  can 
not  weaken  me.  The  die  is  cast.  We  must  go. ' ' 

She  tore  herself  away  from  him  and  fled  into 
her  room,  where,  with  set  face  and  ashen  lips, 
she  stuffed  article  after  article  into  her  grip. 
With  a  heavy  heart  Carlton  did  the  same.  The 
bottom  had  dropped  out  of  everything,  yet  try 
as  he  would  to  reason  it  out,  he  could  find  no 
other  solution  but  hers.  To  stay  was  out  of  the 
question,  if  indeed  it  was  not  already  too  late 
to  run.  To  go  together  was  equally  out  of  the 
question.  Constance  had  shown  that  "  Seek 
the  woman, ' '  was  the  first  rule  of  the  police. 

As  they  left  the  apartment  they  could  see 
a  man  across  the  street  following  them  closely. 


32  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

They  were  shadowed.  In  despair  Carlton 
turned  toward  his  wife.  A  sudden  idea  had 
flashed  over  her.  There  were  two  taxicabs  at 
the  station  on  the  corner. 

"  I  will  take  the  first,"  she  whispered. 
"  Take  the  second  and  follow  me.  Then  he  can 
not  trace  us." 

They  were  off,  leaving  the  baffled  shadow  only 
time  to  take  the  numbers  of  the  cab.  Constance 
had  thought  of  that.  She  stopped  and  Carlton 
joined  her.  After  a  short  walk  they  took  an 
other  cab. 

He  looked  at  her  inquiringly,  but  she  said 
nothing.  In  her  eyes  he  saw  the  same  fire  that 
blazed  when  she  had  asked  him  if  there  was  no 
way  to  avoid  discovery  and  had  suggested  it 
herself  in  the  forgery.  He  reached  over  and 
caressed  her,  hand.  She  did  not  withdraw  it, 
but  her  averted  eyes  told  that  she  could  not 
trust  even  herself  too  far. 

As  they  stood  before  the  gateway  to  the  steps 
that  led  down  into  the  long  under-river  tunnel 
which  was  to  swallow  them  so  soon  and  project 
them,  each  into  a  new  life,  hundreds,  perhaps 
thousands  of  miles  apart,  Carlton  realized  as 
never  before  what  it  all  had  meant.  He  had 
loved  her  through  all  the  years,  but  never  with 
the  wild  love  of  the  past  two  weeks.  Now  there 
was  nothing  but  blackness  and  blankness.  He 


THE  FORGERS  33 

felt  as  though  the  hand  of  fate  was  tearing  out 
his  wildly  beating  heart. 

She  tried  to  smile  at  him  bravely.  She  under 
stood.  For  a  moment  she  looked  at  him  in  the 
old  way  and  all  the  pent-up  love  that  would 
have,  that  had  done  and  dared  everything  for 
him  struggled  in  her  rapidly  rising  and  falling 
breast. 

It  was  now  or  never.  She  knew  it,  the 
supreme  effort.  One  word  or  look  too  many 
from  her  and  all  would  be  lost.  She  flung  her 
arms  about  him  and  kissed  him.  "  Remember 
— one  week  from  to-day — a  personal — in  the 
Star,"  she  panted. 

She  literally  tore  herself  from  his  arms, 
gathered  up  her  grip,  and  was  gone. 

A  week  passed.  The  quiet  little  woman  at  the 
Oceanview  House  was  still  as  much  a  mystery 
to  the  other  guests  as  when  she  arrived,  travel- 
stained  and  worn  with  the  repressed  emotion 
of  her  sacrifice.  She  had  appeared  to  show  no 
interest  in  anything,  to  take  her  meals  mechan 
ically,  to  stay  most  of  the  time  in  her  room, 
never  to  enter  into  any  of  the  recreations  of  the 
famous  winter  resort. 

Only  once  a  day  did  she  betray  the  slightest 
concern  about  anything  around  her.  That  was 
when  the  New  York  papers  arrived.  Then  she 


34  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

was  always  first  at  the  news-stand,  and  the  boy 
handed  out  to  her,  as  a  matter  of  habit,  the  Star. 
Yet  no  one  ever  saw  her  read  it.  Directly  after 
ward  she  would  retire  to  her  room.  There  she 
would  pore  over  the  first  page,  reading  and  re 
reading  every  personal  in  it.  Sometimes  she 
would  try  reading  them  backward  and  transpos 
ing  the  words,  as  if  the  message  they  contained 
might  be  in  the  form  of  a  cryptograph. 

The  strain  and  the  suspense  began  to  show 
on  her.  Day  after  day  passed,  until  it  was 
nearly  two  weeks  since  the  parting  in  New  York. 
Day  after  day  she  grew  more  worn  by  worry 
and  fear.  What  had  happened? 

In  desperation  she  herself  wired  a  personal  to 
the  paper :  ' '  Weston.  Write  me  at  the  Ocean- 
view.  Easton. ' ' 

For  three  days  she  waited  for  an  answer. 
Then  she  wired  the  personal  again.  Still  there 
was  no  reply  and  no  hint  of  reply.  Had  they 
captured  him?  Or  was  he  so  closely  pursued 
that  he  did  not  dare  to  reply  even  in  the  cryptic 
manner  on  which  they  had  agreed? 

She  took  the  file  of  papers  which  she  kept  and 
again  ran  through  the  personals,  even  going 
back  to  the  very  day  after  they  had  separated. 
Perhaps  she  had  missed  one,  though  she  knew 
that  she  could  not  have  done  so,  for  she  had 
looked  at  them  a  hundred  times.  Where  was 


THE  FORGERS  35 

he?  Why  did  he  not  answer  her  message  in 
some  way?  No  one  had  followed  her.  Were 
they  centering  their  efforts  on  capturing  him? 

She  haunted  the  news-stand  in  the  lobby  of 
the  beautifully  appointed  hotel.  Her  desire  to 
read  newspapers  grew.  She  read  everything. 

It  was  just  two  weeks  since  they  had  left  New 
York  on  their  separate  journeys  when,  on  the 
evening  of  another  newsless  day,  she  was  pass 
ing  the  news-stand.  From  force  of  habit  she 
glanced  at  an  early  edition  of  an  evening  paper. 

The  big  black  type  of  the  heading  caught  her 
eye: 

NOTED  FORGER  A  SUICIDE 

With  a  little  shriek,  half-suppressed,  she 
seized  the  paper.  It  was  Carlton.  There  was 
his  name.  He  had  shot  himself  in  a  room  in  a 
hotel  in  St.  Louis.  She  ran  her  eye  down  the 
column,  hardly  able  to  read.  In  heavier  type 
than  the  rest  was  the  letter  they  had  found  on. 
him: 

MY  DEAEEST  CONSTANCE, 

When  you  read  this  I,  who  have  wronged  and 
deceived  you  beyond  words,  will  be  where  I  can 
no  longer  hurt  you.  Forgive  me,  for  by  this  act 
I  am  a  confessed  embezzler  and  forger.  I  could 


36  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

not  face  you  and  tell  you  of  the  double  life  I  was 
leading.  So  I  have  sent  you  away  and  have 
gone  away  myself — and  may  the  Lord  have 
mercy  on  the  soul  of 

Your  devoted  husband, 

CABLTON  DUNLAP. 

Over  and  over  again  she  read  the  words,  as 
Bhe  clutched  at  the  edge  of  the  news-stand  to 
keep  from  fainting — "  wronged  and  deceived 
you,"  "  the  double  life  I  was  leading."  What 
did  he  mean?  Had  he,  after  all,  been  concealing 
something  else  from  her?  Had  there  really 
been  another  woman? 

Suddenly  the  truth  flashed  over  her.  Tracked 
and  almost  overtaken,  lacking  her  hand  which 
had  guided  him,  he  had  seen  no  other  way  out. 
And  in  his  last  act  he  had  shouldered  it  all  on 
himself,  had  shielded  her  nobly  from  the 
penalty,  had  opened  wide  for  her  the  only  door 
of  escape. 


CHAPTER  n 

THE  BMBEZZLEBS 

"  I  CAME  here  to  hide,  to  vanish  forever  from 
those  who  know  me." 

The  young  man  paused  a  moment  to  watch 
the  effect  of  his  revelation  of  himself  to  Con 
stance  Dunlap.  There  was  a  certain  cynical 
bitterness  in  his  tone  wnich  made  her  shudder. 

"  If  you  were  to  be  discovered — what  then?  ' 
she  hazarded. 

Murray  Dodge  looked  at  her  significantly,  but 
said  nothing.  Instead,  he  turned  and  gazed 
silently  at  the  ruffled  waters  of  Woodlake. 
There  was  no  mistaking  the  utter  hopelessness 
and  grim  determination  of  the  man. 

*  *  Why — why  have  you  told  so  much  to  me,  an 
absolute  stranger?  "  she  asked,  searching  his 
face.  "  Might  I  not  hand  you  over  to  the 
detectives  who,  you  say,  will  soon  be  looking  for 
you?  " 

"You  might,"  he  answered  quickly,  "but 
you  won't." 

There  was  a  note  of  appeal  in  his  voice  as  he 
pursued  slowly,  not  as  if  seeking  protection,  but 

37 


38  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

as  if  hungry  for  friendship  and  most  of  all  her 
friendship,  "  Mrs.  Dunlap,  I  have  heard  what 
the  people  at  the  hotel  say  is  your  story.  I  think 
I  understand,  as  much  as  a  man  can.  Anyhow, 
I  know  that  you  can  understand.  I  have 
reached  a  point  where  I  must  tell  some  one  or 
go  insane.  It  is  only  a  question  of  time  before 
I  shall  be  caught.  We  are  all  caught.  Tell 
me,''  he  asked  eagerly,  bending  down  closer  to 
her  with  an  almost  breathless  intensity  in  his 
face  as  though  he  would  read  her  thoughts, 
"  am  I  right?  The  story  of  you  which  I  have 
heard  since  I  came  here  is  not  the  truth,  the 
whole  truth.  It  is  only  half  the  truth — is  it 
not?  " 

Constance  felt  that  this  man  was  dangerously 
near  understanding  her,  as  no  one  yet  had 
seemed  to  be.  It  set  her  heart  beating  wildly 
to  know  that  he  did.  And  yet  she  was  not 
afraid.  Somehow,  although  she  did  not  betray 
the  answer  by  a  word  or  a  look,  she  felt  that 
she  could  trust  him. 

Through  the  door  of  escape  from  the  penalty 
of  her  forgeries,  which  Carlton  Dunlap  had 
thrown  open  for  her  by  the  manner  of  his  death, 
Constance  had  passed  unsuspected.  To  return 
to  New  York,  however,  had  become  out  of  the 
question.  She  had  plenty  of  money  for  her 
present  needs,  although  she  thought  it  best  to 


THE  EMBEZZLERS  39 

say  nothing  about  it  lest  some  one  might  wonder 
and  stumble  on  the  truth. 

She  had  closed  up  the  little  studio  apartment, 
and  had  gone  to  a  quiet  resort  in  the  pines. 
Here,  at  least,  she  thought  she  might  live  un 
observed  until  she  could  plan  out  the  tangled 
future  of  her  life. 

There  had  seemed  to  be  no  need  to  conceal 
her  identity,  and  she  had  felt  it  better  not  to  do 
so.  She  knew  that  her  story  would  follow  her, 
and  it  had.  She  was  prepared  for  that  She 
was  prepared  for  the  pity  and  condescension  of 
the  gossips  and  had  made  up  her  mind  to  stand 
aloof. 

Then  came  a  day  when  a  stranger  had  reg 
istered  at  the  hotel.  She  had  not  noticed  him 
especially,  but  it  was  not  long  before  she 
realized  that  he  was  noticing  her.  Was  he  a 
detective  ?  Had  he  found  out  the  truth  in  some 
uncanny  way?  She  felt  sure  that  the  name  on 
the  hotel  register,  Malcolm  Dodd,  was  not  his 
real  name. 

Constance  had  not  been  surprised  when  the 
head  waiter  had  seated  the  young  man  at  her 
table.  No  doubt  he  had  manoeuvred  it  so.  Nor 
did  she  avoid  the  guarded  acquaintance  that  re 
sulted  in  the  natural  course  of  events. 

One  afternoon,  shortly  after  his  arrival,  she 


40  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

had  encountered  Mm  unexpectedly  on  a  walk 
through  the  pines.  He  appeared  surprised  to 
meet  her,  yet  she  knew  intuitively  that  he  had 
been  following  her.  Still,  it  was  so  different 
now  to  have  any  one  seek  her  company  that,  in 
spite  of  her  uncertainty  of  him,  she  almost  wel 
comed  his  speaking. 

There  was  a  certain  deference  in  his  manner, 
too,  which  did  not  accord  with  Constance's 
ideas  of  a  detective.  Yet  he  did  know  something 
of  her.  How  much  I  Was  it  merely  what  the 
rest  of  the  world  knew?  She  could  not  help 
seeing  that  the  man  was  studying  her,  while  she 
studied  him.  There  was  a  fascination  about  it, 
a  fascination  that  the  human  mystery  always 
possesses  for  a  woman.  On  his  part,  he  showed 
keenly  his  interest  in  her. 

Constance  had  met  him  with  more  frankness 
as  she  encountered  him  often  during  the  days 
that  followed.  She  had  even  tried  to  draw  him 
out  to  talk  of  himself. 

"  I  came  here,"  he  had  said  one  day  when 
they  were  passing  the  spot  where  he  had  over 
taken  her  first,  "  without  knowing  a  soul,  not 
expecting  to  meet  any  one  I  should  care  for, 
indeed  hoping  to  meet  no  one. ' ' 

Constance  had  said  nothing,  but  she  felt  that 
at  last  he  was  going  to  crash  down  the  barrier 
of  reserve.  He  continued  earnestly,  "  Some- 


THE  EMBEZZLERS  41 

how  or  other  I  have  come  to  enjoy  these  little 
walks. " 

"  So  have  I,"  she  admitted,  facing  him; 
"  but,  do  you  know,  sometimes  I  have  thought 
that  Malcolm  Dodd  is  not  your  real  name  ?  ' ' 

"  Not  my  real  name?  "  he  repeated. 

' '  And  that  you  are  here  for  some  other  pur 
pose  than — just  to  rest.  You  know,  you  might 
be  a  detective. " 

He  had  looked  at  her  searchingly.  Then  in 
a  burst  of  confidence,  he  had  replied,  * '  No,  my 
name  is  not  Dodd,  as  you  guessed.  But  I  am 
not  a  detective,  as  you  suspected  at  first.  I 
have  been  watching  you  because,  ever  since  I 
heard  your  story  here,  I  have  been — well,  not 
suspicious,  but — attracted.  You  seem  to  me  to 
have  faced  a  great  problem.  I,  too,  have  come 
to  the  parting  of  the  ways.  Shall  I  run  or  shall 
I  fight?  " 

He  had  handed  her  a  card  without  hesitation. 
It  bore  the  name,  "  Murray  Dodge,  Treasurer, 
Globe  Importing  Company." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  she  had  asked 
quickly,  hardly  expecting  an  answer.  "  What 
have  you  done?  " 

"  Oh,  it  is  the  usual  trouble,  I  suppose, "  he 
had  replied  wearily,  much  to  her  surprise.  "  I 
began  as  a  boy  in  the  company  and  ultimately 
worked  myself  up  as  it  grew,  until  I  became 


42  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

treasurer.  To  cut  it  short,  I  have  used  funds 
belonging  to  the  company,  lost  them.  I  don't 
need  to  tell  you  how  a  treasurer  or  a  cashier  can 
do  that." 

Constance  was  actually  startled.  Was  he  what 
he  represented  himself  to  be?  Or  was  he  lead 
ing  her  on  in  this  way  to  a  confession  of  her  own 
part,  which  she  had  covered  so  well,  in  the  for 
geries  of  her  dead  husband? 

il  How  did  you  begin?  "  she  asked  tenta 
tively. 

*  *  A  few  years  ago, ' '  he  answered  with  a  dis 
concerting  lack  of  reserve, ' '  the  company  found 
that  we  could  beat  our  competitors  by  a  very 
simple  means.  The  largest  stockholder,  Mr. 
Dumont,  was  friendly  with  some  of  the  customs 
officials  and — well,  we  undervalued  our  goods. 
It  was  easy.  The  only  thing  necessary  was  to 
bribe  some  of  the  officials.  The  president  of  the 
company,  Walton  Beverley,  put  the  dirty  work 
on  me  as  treasurer.  Now  you  can  imagine  what 
that  meant ' ' 

He  had  fallen  into  a  cynical  tone  again. 

"  It  meant  that  I  soon  found,  or,  rather^ 
thought  I  found,  that  every  man  has  his  price- 
some  higher,  some  lower,  but  a  price,  neverthe 
less.  It  was  my  business  to  find  it,  to  keep  it  as 
low  as  I  could  with  safety.  So  it  went,  from 
one  crooked  thing  to  another.  I  knew  I  was 


THE  EMBEZZLEES  43 

crooked,  but  not  as  bad,  I  think,  as  the  rest  who 
put  the  actual  work  on  me.  I  was  unfortunate, 
weak  perhaps.  That  is  all.  I  tried  to  get  mine, 
too.  I  lost  what  I  meant  to  put  back  after  I  had 
used  it.  They  are  after  me  now,  or  soon  will  be 
— the  crooks !  And  here  I  am,  momentarily  ex 
pecting  some  one  to  walk  up  quietly  behind  me, 
tap  me  on  the  shoulder  and  whisper,  *  You're 
wanted.'  " 

Time  had  not  softened  the  bitterness  of  Con 
stance's  feelings.  Somehow  she  felt  that  the 
world,  or  at  least  society  owed  her  for  taking 
away  her  husband.  The  world  must  pay.  She 
sympathized  with  the  young  man  who  was  ap 
pealing  to  her  for  friendship.  Why  not  help 
him! 

"  Do  you  really,  really  want  to  know  what  I 
think?  "  asked  Constance  after  he  had  at  last 
told  her  his  wretched  story.  It  was  the  first 
time  that  she  had  looked  at  him  since  she 
realized  that  he  was  unburdening  the  truth  to 
her. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  eagerly,  catching  her 
eye.  *  *  Yes, ' '  he  urged. 

"  I  think,"  she  said  slowly,  "  that  you  are 
running  away  from  a  fight  that  has  not  yet  be 
gun." 

It  thrilled  her  to  be  talking  so.  Once  before 
she  had  tasted  the  sweetness  and  the  bitterness 


44  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

of  crime.  She  did  not  stop  to  think  about  right 
or  wrong.  If  she  had  done  so  her  ethics  would 
have  been  strangely  illogical.  It  was  enough 
that,  short  as  their  acquaintance  had  been,  she 
felt  unconsciously  that  there  was  something 
latent  in  the  spirit  of  this  man  akin  to  her  own. 

Murray  also  felt  rather  than  understood  the 
bond  that  had  been  growing  so  rapidly  between 
them.  His  was  the  temperament  that  im 
mediately  translates  feeling  into  action.  He 
reached  into  his  breast  pocket.  There  was  the 
blue-black  glint  of  a  cold  steel  automatic.  A 
moment  he  balanced  it  in  his  hand.  Then  with 
a  rapid  and  decisive  motion  of  the  arm  he  flung 
it  far  from  him.  As  it  struck  the  water  with  a 
sound  horribly  suggestive  of  the  death  gurgle 
of  a  lost  man,  he  turned  and  faced  her. 

"  There,"  he  exclaimed  with  a  new  light  in 
the  defiant,  desperate  smile  that  she  had  ob 
served  many  times  before,  * '  there.  The  curtain 
rises  — instead  of  falls. ' ' 

Neither  spoke  for  a  few  moments.  At  last  he 
added,  "  What  shall  I  do  next?  " 

"  Do?  "  she  repeated.  She  felt  now  the 
weight  of  responsibility  for  interfering  with  his 
desperate  plans,  but  it  did  not  oppress  her.  On 
the  contrary,  it  was  a  pleasant  burden.  "  Ac 
cording  to  your  own  story,"  she  went  on,  "  they 
know  nothing  yet,  as  far  as  you  can  see.  You 


THE  EMBEZZLERS  45 

would  have  forestalled  them  by  taking  this  little 
vacation  during  which  you  could  disappear 
while  they  would  discover  the  shortage.  Do? 
Go  back  " 

' '  And  when  they  discover  it  ?  "he  asked  evi 
dently  prepared  for  the  answer  she  had  given 
and  eager  to  know  what  she  would  propose  next. 

Constance  had  been  thinking  rapidly. 

"  Listen,"  she  cried,  throwing  aside  restraint 
now.  * '  No  one  in  New  York  outside  my  former 
little  circle  knows  me.  I  can  live  there  in  an 
other  circle  unobserved.  For  weeks  I  have  been 
amusing  myself  by  the  study  of  shorthand.  I 
have  picked  up  enough  to  be  able  to  carry  the 
thing  off.  Discharge  your  secretary.  Put  an 
advertisement  in  the  newspapers.  I  will  answer 
it.  Then  I  will  be  able  to  help  you.  I  cannot 
say  at  a  distance  what  you  should  do  next. 
There,  perhaps,  I  can  tell  you. ' ' 

What  was  it  that  had  impelled  her  to  say  it  ? 
She  could  not  have  told.  Murray  looked  at  her. 
Her  very  presence  seemed  to  infuse  new  deter 
mination  into  him. 

It  was  strange  about  this  woman,  what  a 
wonderful  effect  she  had  on  him. 

A  few  days  before  he  would  have  laughed  at 
any  one  who  had  suggested  that  any  woman 
might  have  aroused  in  him  the  passions  that 
were  now  surging  through  his  heart.  Ten 


46  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

thousand  years  ago,  perhaps,  he  would  have 
seized  her  and  carried  her  off  in  triumph  to  his 
clan  or  tribe.  To-day  he  must,  he  would  win  her 
by  more  subtle  means. 

His  mind  was  made  up.  She  had  pointed  the 
way.  That  night  Dodge  left  Woodlake  hastily 
for  New  York. 

To  Constance  a  new  purpose  seemed  to  have 
entered  into  a  barren  life.  She  was  almost  gay 
as  she  packed  her  trunks  and  grips  and  quietly 
slipped  into  the  city  a  few  hours  later  and 
registered  at  a  quiet  hotel  for  business  women. 

Sure  enough  in  the  Star  the  next  morning  was 
the  advertisement.  She  wrote  in  a  formal  way, 
giving  her  telephone  number.  That  afternoon, 
apparently  as  soon  as  the  letter  had  been  de 
livered,  a  call  came.  The  following  morning  she 
was  the  private  secretary  of  Murray  Dodge,  sit 
ting  unobtrusively  before  a  typewriter  desk  in 
a  sort  of  little  anteroom  that  guarded  the  door 
to  his  office. 

She  took  pains  to  act  the  part  of  private 
secretary  and  no  more.  As  appeared  natural  to 
the  rest  of  the  office  force  at  first  she  was  much 
with  Murray,  who  made  the  most  elaborate  ex 
planations  of  the  detail  of  the  business. 

11  Do  they  suspect  anything!  "  she  asked  anx 
iously  as  soon  as  they  were  absolutely  alone. 


THE  EMBEZZLERS  47 

"  I  think  so,"  he  replied.  "  They  said  noth 
ing  except  that  they  had  not  expected  me  back 
so  soon.  I  think  the  '  so  soon  '  was  an  after 
thought.  They  didn't  expect  me  back  at  all. 
For,"  he  added  significantly,  "  I've  been  in  fear 
and  trembling  until  I  could  get  you.  They  al 
ready  have  asked  the  regular  audit  company  to 
go  over  the  books  in  advance  of  the  time  when 
we  usually  employ  them.  I  didn't  ask  why.  I 
merely  accepted  it  with  a  nod.  It  might  have 
meant  bringing  matters  to  a  crisis  now. ' ' 

He  felt  safer  with  Constance  installed  as  his 
private  secretary.  True,  Beverley  and  Dumont 
had  viewed  her  from  the  start  with  suspicion. 

Constance  had  been  thinking  hard  out  in  her 
little  office  since  she  had  begun  to  understand 
how  matters  stood.  "  Well?  "  she  demanded. 
"  What  of  it?  Don't  try  to  conceal  it.  Let 
them  discover  it.  Go  further.  Dare  them. 
Court  exposure. ' ' 

It  was  bold  and  ingenious.  What  a  woman 
she  was  for  meeting  emergencies.  Murray,  who 
had  a  will  that  had  been  accustomed  to  bend 
others  to  his  purposes  except  in  the  instance 
where  they  had  bent  him  and  nearly  broken  him, 
recognized  the  masterful  mind  of  Constance. 
He  was  willing  to  allow  her  to  play  the 
game. 


48  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

Thus  Constance  began  collecting  the  very 
data  that  would  have  sent  Murray  to  jail  for 
bribery.  Day  by  day  as  she  worked  on,  the 
situation  became  more  and  more  delicate.  They 
found  themselves  alone  much  of  the  time  now. 
Beverley  was,  or  pretended  to  be,  busy  on  other 
matters  and  avoided  Dodge  as  much  as  possible. 
Only  the  regular  routine  affairs  passed  through 
his  hands,  but  he  said  nothing.  It  gave  him 
more  time  with  her.  Dumont  came  in  as  rarely 
as  it  was  possible. 

And  as  they  worked  along  gathering  the  data 
Constance  came  to  admire  Murray  more  than 
ever.  She  worked  patiently  over  the  big  books, 
taking  only  those  on  which  the  accountant  was 
not  engaged  at  such  times  as  she  could  get  them 
without  exciting  suspicion.  Together  they  dug 
out  the  extent  of  the  frauds  that  had  been  prac 
ticed  on  the  Government  for  years  back.  From 
the  letter  files  they  rescued  notes  and  orders  and 
letters,  pieced  them  together  into  as  near  a  con 
tinuous  record  as  they  could  make.  "With  his 
own  knowledge  of  the  books  Dodge  could  count 
on  making  better  progress  on  the  essential 
things  than  the  regular  accountant  of  the  audit 
company.  He  felt  sure  that  they  would  finish 
sooner  and  that  they  would  have  a  closer  report 
of  the  frauds  of  all  kinds  than  could  be  un 
covered  by  the  man  who  had  been  set  on  the 


THE  EMBEZZLERS  49 

trail  of  Dodge  to  discover  just  how  much  of  the 
illicit  gains  he  had  taken  for  himself. 

Constance  became  aware  soon  that  whenever 
she  left  the  office  at  night  she  was  being  fol 
lowed.  She  had  at  first  studiously  repelled  the 
offers  of  Murray  to  see  her  home.  It  was  not 
that  he  had  taken  advantage  of  the  situation  into 
which  she  had  put  herself.  He  would  never 
have  done  that.  Still,  she  wished  a  little  more 
time  to  analyze  her  own  conflicting  feelings  to 
ward  him.  Then,  too,  several  times  in  the 
crowded  subway  cars  she  had  noticed  a  face  that 
was  familiar.  It  was  Drummond,  never  look 
ing  directly  at  her,  always  engrossed  in  some 
thing  else,  yet  never  failing  to  note  where  she 
was  going.  That  must  be,  she  reasoned,  some  of 
the  work  of  Beverley  and  Dumont. 

Murray  was  now  working  feverishly.  As  he 
worked  he  found  himself  feeling  differently  to 
ward  the  whole  affair.  He  actually  came  to  en 
joy  it  with  all  its  risks  and  uncertainty,  to  en 
joy  gathering  the  data  which,  he  should  have 
said,  ought  really  to  be  destroyed.  Often  he 
•caught  himself  wishing  that  everything  had 
come  out  all  right  in  the  end  and  that  Constance 
really  was  his  private  secretary. 

Every  moment  with  her  seemed  now  to  pass 
so  quickly  that  he  would  willingly  have  smashed 


50 

all  the  clocks  and  destroyed  all  the  calendars. 
Association  with  other  women  had  been  tame 
beside  his  new  friendship  with  her.  She  had 
suffered,  felt,  lived.  She  fascinated  him,  as 
often  over  the  books  they  would  stop  to  talk,  talk 
of  things  the  most  irrelevant,  yet  to  him  the 
most  interesting,  until  she  would  bring  him  back 
inevitably  to  the  point  of  their  work  and  start 
him  again  with  a  new  power  and  incentive  to 
ward  the  purpose  she  had  in  mind. 

To  Constance  he  seemed  to  fill  a  blank  spot  in 
her  empty  life.  If  she  had  been  bitter  toward 
the  world  for  what  had  happened  to  her,  the 
pleasure  of  helping  another  to  beat  that  harsh 
world  seemed  an  unspeakably  sweet  compensa 
tion. 

At  last  even  Constance  herself  began  to 
realize  it.  It  was  not,  after  all,  merely  the  bit 
terness  toward  society,  that  lured  her  on.  She 
was  not  a  woman  carved  out  of  a  block  of  stone. 
There  was  a  sweetness  about  this  association 
that  carried  her  along  as  if  in  a  dream.  She  was 
actually  falling  in  love  with  him. 

One  day  she  had  been  working  later  than 
usual.  The  accountant  had  shown  signs  of  ap 
proaching  the  end  of  his  task  sooner  than  they 
had  expected.  Murray  was  waiting,  as  was  his 
custom,  for  her  to  finish  before  he  left. 

There  was  no  sound  in  the  almost  deserted 


THE  EMBEZZLERS  51 

office  building  save  the  banging  of  a  door  echo 
ing  now  and  then,  or  an  insistent  ring  of  the  ele 
vator  bell  as  an  anxious  office  boy  or  stenog 
rapher  sought  to  escape  after  an  extra  period 
of  work. 

Murray  stood  looking  at  her  admiringly  as 
she  deftly  shoved  the  pins  into  her  hat.  Then 
he  held  her  coat,  which  brought  them  close  to 
gether. 

"  It  will  soon  be  time  for  the  final  scene," 
he  remarked.  His  manner  was  different  as  he 
looked  down  at  her.  "  We  must  succeed,  Con 
stance,"  he  went  on  slowly.  "  Of  course,  after 
it  is  over,  it  will  be  impossible  for  me  to  remain 
here  with  this  company.  I  have  been  looking 
around.  I  must — we  must  clear  ourselves.  I 
already  have  an  offer  to  go  with  another  com 
pany,  much  better  than  this  position  in  every 
way — honest,  square,  with  no  dirty  work,  such 
as  I  have  had  here. ' ' 

It  was  a  moment  that  Constance  had  foreseen, 
without  planning  what  she  would  do.  She 
moved  to  the  door  as  if  to  go. 

'  *  Take  dinner  with  me  to-night  at  the  River 
side,"  he  went  on,  mentioning  the  name  of  a 
beautifully  situated  inn  uptown  overlooking 
the  lights  of  the  Hudson  and  thronged  by  gay 
parties  of  pleasure  seekers. 

Before  she  could  say  no,  even  though  she 


52  CONSTANCE  DTJNLAP 

would  have  said  it,  lie  had  linked  his  arm  in 
hers,  banged  shut  the  door  and  they  were  being 
whisked  to  the  street  in  the  elevator. 

This  time,  as  they  were  about  to  go  out  of 
the  building,  she  noticed  Drummond  standing 
in  the  shadow  of  a  corner  back  of  the  cigar 
counter  on  the  first  floor.  She  told  Murray  of 
the  times  she  had  seen  Drummond  following 
her.  Murray  ground  his  teeth. 

"  He'll  have  to  hustle  this  time,"  he  mut 
tered,  handing  her  quickly  into  a  cab  that  was 
waiting  for  a  fare. 

Before  he  could  give  the  order  where  to  drive 
she  had  leaned  out  of  the  window,  "  To  the 
ferry,"  she  cried. 

Murray  looked  at  her  inquiringly.  Then  he 
understood.  "  Not  to  the  Riverside — yet,"  she 
whispered.  "  That  man  has  just  summoned  a 
cab  that  was  passing. '  ' 

In  her  eyes  Murray  saw  the  same  fire  that 
had  blazed  when  she  had  told  him  he  was  run 
ning  away  from  a  fight  that  had  not  yet  begun. 
As  the  cab  whirled  through  the  now  nearly  de 
serted  downtown  streets,  he  reached  over  in 
sheer  admiration  and  caressed  her  hand.  She 
did  not  withdraw  it,  but  her  averted  eyes  and 
quick  breath  told  that  a  thousand  thoughts  were 
hurrying  through  her  mind,  divided  between 


THE  EMBEZZLERS  53 

the  man  in  the  cab  beside  her  and  the  man  in 
the  cab  following  perhaps  half  a  block  be 
hind. 

At  the  ferry  they  halted  and  pretended  to  be 
examining  a  time  table,  though  they  bought 
only  ferry  tickets.  Drummond  did  the  same, 
and  sauntered  leisurely  within  easy  distance  of 
the  gate.  Nothing  seemed  to  escape  him,  and 
yet  never  did  he  seem  to  be  watching  them." 

The  gateman  shouted  ' '  All  aboard !  ' ' 

The  door  began  to  close. 

"  Come,"  she  tugged  at  his  sleeve. 

They  dodged  in  just  in  time.  Drummond 
followed.  They  started  across  the  wagonway 
to  the  opposite  side  of  the  slip.  He  kept  on  the 
near  side.  Constance  swerved  back  again  to 
the  near  side.  Drummond  had  been  opposite 
them  and  they  had  now  fallen  in  behind  him. 
He  was  now  ahead,  but  going  slowly.  Murray 
felt  her  pulling  back  on  his  arm.  With  a  little 
exclamation  she  dropped  her  purse,  which  con 
tained  a  few  coins.  She  had  contrived  to  open 
it,  and  the  coins  ran  in  every  possible  direction. 
Drummond  was  now  on  the  boat. 

"All  aboard,"  growled  the  guard  surlily. 
"All  aboard." 

'  *  Go  ahead,  go  ahead, ' '  shouted  Murray,  try 
ing  to  pick  up  the  scattered  change  and  scat 
tering  it  the  more.  At  last  he  understood. 


54  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

"  Go  ahead.    We'll  take  the  next  boat.    Can't 
you  see  the  lady  has  dropped  her  purse?  " 

The  gates  closed.  The  warning  whistle  blew, 
and  the  ferryboat  departed,  bearing  off  Drum- 
mond  alone. 

Another  cab  took  them  to  the  Eiverside.  A 
new  bond  of  experience  had  been  established 
between  them.  They  dined  quietly  and  as  the 
lights  grew  mellow  she  told  him  more  of  her 
story  than  she  had  ever  breathed  to  any  other 
living  soul. 

As  Murray  listened  he  looked  his  admiration 
for  the  daring  of  the  little  woman  opposite  him 
at  the  table. 

They  drifted.     .    .     . 

It  was  the  day  of  the  threatened  exposure. 
Curiously  enough,  Dodge  felt  no  nervousness. 
The  understanding  which  he  had  reached  or 
felt  that  he  had  reached  with  Constance  made 
him  rather  eager  than  otherwise  to  have  the 
whole  affair  over  with  at  once. 

Drummond  had  been  shut  up  for  some  time 
in  the  office  of  Beverley  with  Dumont,  going 
over  the  report  which  the  accountant  had  pre 
pared  and  other  matters.  He  had  come  in  with 
out  seeing  either  Constance  or  Murray,  though 
they  knew  he  must  be  nursing  his  chagrin  over 
the  episode  of  the  night  before. 


THE  EMBEZZLERS  55 

"  They  are  waiting  to  see  you,"  reported 
Constance  to  Dodge,  half  an  hour  later,  after 
one  of  the  office  boys  had  been  sent  over  as  a 
formal  messenger  to  their  office. 

"  We  are  ready  for  them?  "  he  asked,  smil 
ing  at  her. 

Constance  nodded. 

' '  Then  I  shall  go  in.  Wait  a  moment.  When 
they  have  hurled  their  worst  at  me  I  shall  call 
on  you.  Have  the  stuff  ready." 

There  was  no  hesitation,  no  misgiving  on 
the  T)art  of  either,  as  he  strode  into  Beverley's 
office.  Constance  had  prepared  the  record 
which  they  had  been  working  on,  and  for  days 
had  been  momentarily  expecting  this  crisis. 
She  felt  that  she  was  ready. 

An  ominous  silence  greeted  Dodge  as  he  en 
tered. 

1  *  We  have  had  experts  on  your  books,  Dodge, ' ' 
began  Beverley,  clearing  his  throat,  as  Murray 
seated  himself,  waiting  for  them  to  speak  first. 

*  *  I  have  seen  that, ' '  he  replied  dryly. 

"  They  are  fifty  thousand  dollars  short," 
shot  out  Dumont. 

"Indeed?" 

Dumont  gasped  at  the  coolness  of  the  man. 
41  Wh-what?  You  have  nothing  to  say?  Why, 
sir,"  he  added,  raising  his  voice,  "  you  have 
actually  made  no  effort  to  conceal  it!  " 


56  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

Dodge  smiled  cynically.  "  A  consultation 
will  rectify  it,"  was  all  he  said.  "  A  confer 
ence  will  show  you  that  it  is  all  right." 

"  A  consultation?  "  broke  in  Beverley  in 
rage.  ' '  A  consultation  in  jail !  " 

Still  Dodge  merely  smiled. 

"  Then  you  consider  yourself  trapped.  You 
admit  it,"  ground  out  Dumont. 

"  Anything  you  please,"  repeated  Dodge. 
4t  I  am  perfectly  willing " 

"Let  us  end  this  farce — now,"  cried  Bev 
erley  hotly.  "  Drummond!  " 

The  detective  had  been  doing  some  *apid 
thinking.  "  Just  a  moment,"  he  interrupted. 
"  Don't  be  too  precipitate.  Hear  his  side,  if  he 
has  any.  I  can  manage  him.  Besides,  I  have 
something  else  to  say  about  another  person  that 
will  interest  us  all. ' ' 

1 1  Then  you  are  willing  to  have  the  consulta 
tion?  " 

Drummond  nodded. 

"  Miss  Dunlap,"  called  Murray,  taking  tLe 
words  almost  from  the  detective's  lips,  as  he 
opened  the  door  and  held  it  for  her  to  enter. 

"  No — no.    Alone,"  almost  shouted  Beverley. 

The  detective  signaled  to  him  and  he  sub 
sided,  muttering. 

As  she  entered  Drummond  looked  hard  at  her. 
Constance  met  him  without  wavering  an  instant. 


THE  EMBEZZLERS  57 

"  I  think  I've  seen  you  before,  Mrs.  Dunlap," 
insinuated  the  detective. 

"  Perhaps,"  replied  Constance,  still  meeting 
his  sharp  ferret  eye  squarely,  which  increased 
his  animosity. 

* '  Your  husband  was  Carlton  Dunlap,  cashier 
of  Green  &  Company,  was  he  not?  ' 

She  bit  her  lip.  The  manner  of  his  raking 
up  of  old  scores,  though  she  had  expected  it, 
was  cruel.  It  would  have  been  cruel  in  court,  if 
she  had  had  a  lawyer  to  protect  her  rights.  It 
was  doubly  cruel,  merciless,  here.  Before 
Dodge  could  interrupt,  the  detective  added, 
"  Who  committed  suicide  after  forging  checks 
to  meet  his- " 

Murray  was  at  Drummond  like  a  hound. 
"  Another  word  from  you  and  I'll  throttle 
you,"  he  blurted  out. 

"  No,  Murray,  no.  Don't,"  pleaded  Con 
stance.  She  was  burning  with  indignation,  but 
it  was  not  by  violence  that  ih;  expected  to  pre 
vail.  "  Let  him  say  what  he  has  to  say." 

Drummond  smiled.  He  had  no  scruples  about 
a  "  third  degree  "  of  this  kind,  and  besides 
there  were  three  of  them  to  Dodge. 

"  You  were — both  of  you — at  Woodlake  not 
long  ago,  were  you  not?  "  he  asked  calmly. 

There  was  no  escaping  the  implication  of  the 
tone.  Still  Drummond  was  taking  no  chances 


58  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

of  being  misunderstood.  "  There  was  one 
man,"  he  went  on,  "  who  embezzled  for  you. 
Here  is  another  who  has  embezzled.  How  will 
that  look  when  it  goes  before  a  jury?  "  he  con 
cluded. 

The  fight  had  shifted  before  it  had  well  be 
gun.  Instead  of  being  between  Dodge  on  one 
side  and  Beverley  and  Dumont  on  the  other,  it 
now  seemed  to  be  a  clash  between  a  cool  detec 
tive  and  a  clever  woman. 

1 1  Mrs.  Dunlap, ' '  interrupted  Murray,  with  a 
mocking  smile  at  the  detective,  "  will  you  tell 
us  what  you  have  found  out  since  you  have 
been  my  private  secretary?  " 

Constance  had  not  lost  control  of  herself  for 
a  moment. 

"  I  have  been  looking  over  the  books  a  little 
bit  myself,"  she  began  slowly,  with  all  eyes 
riveted  on  her.  l  *  I  find,  for  instance,  that  your 
company  has  been  undervaluing  its  imported 
goods.  Undervaluing  merchandise  is  consid 
ered,  I  believe,  one  of  the  meanest  forms  of 
smuggling.  The  undervaluer  has  frequently 
to  make  a  tool  of  a  man  in  his  employ.  Then 
that  tool  must  play  on  the  frailties  of  an 
unfortunate  or  weak  examiner  at  the  Public 
Stores  where  all  invoices  and  merchandise  from 
foreign  countries  are  examined." 


THE  EMBEZZLERS  59 

Drummond  had  been  trying  to  interrupt,  but 
she  had  ignored  him,  and  was  speaking  rapidly 
so  that  he  could  get  no  chance. 

"  You  have  cheated  the  Government  of 
hundreds  of  thousands  dollars,"  she  hurried 
on,  facing  Beverley  and  Dumont.  "  It  would 
make  a  splendid  newspaper  story. ' ' 

Dumont  moved  uneasily.  Drummond  was 
now  staring.  It  was  a  new  phase  of  the  matter 
to  him.  He  had  not  counted  on  handling  a  wo 
man  like  Constance,  who  knew  how  to  take  ad 
vantage  of  every  weak  spot  in  the  armor. 

"  We  are  wasting  time,"  he  interrupted 
brusquely.  "  Get  back  to  the  original  subject. 
There  is  a  fifty  thousand-dollar  shortage  on 
these  books." 

The  attempt  clumsily  to  shift  the  case  away 
again  from  Constance  to  Dodge  was  apparent. 

"  Mrs.  Dunlap's  past  troubles,"  Dodge  as 
serted  vigorously, ' '  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
case.  It  was  cowardly  to  drag  that  in.  But  the 
other  matter  of  which  she  speaks  has  much  to 
do^ith  it." 

"  One  moment,  Murray,"  cried  Constance. 
"  Let  me  finish  what  I  began.  This  is  my  fight, 
too,  now.  ' ' 

She  was  talking  with  blazing  eyes  and  in 
quick,  cutting  tone. 

"  For  three  years  he  did  your  dirty  work," 


60  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

she  flashed.  "  He  did  the  bribing — and  you 
saved  half  a  million  dollars." 

"  He  has  stolen  fifty  thousand,"  put  in 
Beverley,  white  with  anger. 

"  I  have  kept  an  account  of  everything," 
pursued  Constance,  without  pausing.  "  I  have 
pieced  the  record  together  so  that  he  can  now 
connect  the  men  higher  up  with  the  actual  acts 
he  had  to  do.  He  can  gain  immunity  by  turn 
ing  state 's  evidence.  I  am  not  sure  but  that  he 
might  be  able  to  obtain  his  moiety  of  what 
the  Government  recovers  if  the  matter  were 
brought  to  suit  and  won  on  the  information  he 
can  furnish." 

She  paused.    No  one  seemed  to  breathe. 

"  Now,"  she  added  impressively,  "  at  ten 
per  cent,  commission  the  half  million  that  he 
saved  for  you  yields  fifty  thousand  dollars. 
That,  gentlemen,  is  the  amount  of  the  shortage 
• — an  offset. ' ' 

' '  The  deuce  it  is !  "  exclaimed  Beverley. 

Constance  reached  for  a  telephone  on  the 
desk  near  her. 

fl  Get  me  the  Law  Division  at  the  Customs 
House,"  she  asked  simply. 

Dumont  was  pale  and  almost  speechless. 
Beverley  could  ill  suppress  his  smothered  rage. 
What  could  they  do?  The  tables  had  been 
turned.  If  they  objected  to  the  amazing  pro- 


THE  EMBEZZLERS  61 

posal  Constance  had  made  they  might  all  go  to 
jail.  Dodge  even  might  go  free,  rich.  They 
looked  at  Dodge  and  Mrs.  Dunlap.  There  was 
no  weakening.  They  were  as  relentless  as  their 
opponents  had  been  before. 

Dumont  literally  tore  the  telephone  from  her. 
"  Never  mind  about  that  number,  central,"  he 
muttered. 

Then  he  started  as  if  toward  the  door.  The 
rest  followed.  Outside  the  accountant  had  been 
waiting  patiently,  perhaps  expecting  Drum- 
mond  to  call  on  him  to  corroborate  the  report. 
He  had  been  listening.  There  was  no  sound  of 
high  voices,  as  he  had  expected.  What  did  it 
mean? 

The  door  opened.  Beverley  was  pale  and 
haggard,  Dumont  worn  and  silent.  He  could 
scarcely  talk.  Dodge  again  held  the  door  for 
Constance  as  she  swept  past  the  amazed  ac 
countant. 

All  eyes  were  now  fixed  on  Dumont  as  chief 
spokesman. 

"  He  has  made  a  satisfactory  explanation, " 
was  all  he  said. 

' '  I  would  lock  all  that  stuff  up  in  the 
strongest  safe  deposit  vault  in  New  York,"  re 
marked  Constance,  laying  the  evidence  that  in 
volved  them  all  on  Murray 's  desk.  ' '  It  is  your 
only  safeguard." 


62  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

.  ' '  Constance, ' '  he  burst  forth  suddenly, '  *  you 
were  superb." 

The  crisis  was  past  now  and  she  felt  the  ner 
vous  reaction. 

11  There  is  one  thing  more  I  want  to  say,"  he 
added  in  a  low  tone. 

He  had  crossed  to  where  she  was  standing  by 
the  window,  and  bent  over,  speaking  with  great 
emotion. 

"  Since  that  afternoon  at  Woodlake  when 
you  turned  me  back  again  from  the  foolish  and 
ruinous  course  on  which  I  had  decided  you — 
you  have  been  more  to  me  than  life.  Constance, 
I  have  never  loved  until  now.  Nothing  has 
ever  mattered  except  money.  I  never  had  any 
one  else  to  think  of,  care  for,  except  myself. 
You  have  changed  everything." 

She  was  gazing  out  of  the  window  at  the  tall 
buildings.  There,  in  a  myriad  of  offices,  lay 
wealth  untold,  opportunity  as  yet  untasted  to 
seize  that  wealth.  Only  for  an  instant  she 
turned  and  looked  at  him,  then  dropped  her 
eyes.  What  lay  that  way? 

"  You  are  clear  now,  respected,  respect 
able,  ' '  she  said  simply. 

'  *  Yes,  thank  God.  Clear  and  with  a  new  am 
bition,  thanks  to  you," 

She  had  been  expecting  this  ever  since  that 
last  night.  The  relief  of  Murray  to  feel  that 


THE  EMBEZZLEES  63 

the  old  score  that  would  have  ruined  him  was 
now  wiped  off  the  slate  was  precisely  what  she 
had  anticipated. 

Yet,  somehow,  it  disappointed  her.  She  felt 
instinctively  that  her  triumph  was  burning  fast 
to  ashes. 

"  Keep  clear,"  she  faltered. 

"  Constance, "  he  urged,  approaching  closer 
and  taking  her  cold  hand. 

Was  she  to  be  the  one  to  hold  him  back  in  any 
way  from  the  new  life  that  was  now  before 
him?  What  if  Drummond,  in  his  animosity, 
ever  got  the  truth?  She  gently  unclasped  her 
hand  from  his.  No,  that  happiness  was  not 
for  her. 

11  I  am  afraid  I  am  a  crook  at  heart,  Mur 
ray,  ' '  she  said  sadly.  ' '  I  have  gone  too  far  to 
turn  back.  The  brand  is  on  me.  But  I  am  not 
altogether  bad — yet.  Think  of  me  always  with 
charity.  Yes,"  she  cried  wildly,  "  I  must  re 
turn  to  my  loneliness.  No,  do  not  try  to  stop 
me,  you  have  no  right,"  she  added  bitterly  as 
the  reality  of  her  situation  burned  itself  into 
her  heart. 

She  broke  away  from  him  wildly,  but  with 
set  purpose.  The  world  had  taken  away  her 
husband;  now  it  was  a  lover;  the  world  must 
pay. 


CHAPTER 

THE  GUN  RUNNERS 

L,  land  here,  Mrs.  Dunlap." 

Ramon  Santos,  terror  of  the  Washington 
State  Department  and  of  a  half  dozen  con 
sulates  in  New  York,  stuck  a  pin  in  a  map  of 
Central  America  spread  out  on  a  table  before 
Constance. 

"  Insurrectos  will  meet  us,"  he  pursued, 
then  added,  "  but  we  must  have  money,  first, 
my  dear  Senora,  plenty  of  money." 

Dark  of  eye  and  skin,  with  black  imperial  and 
mustache,  tall,  straight  as  an  arrow,  Santos 
had  risen  and  was  now  gazing  down  with  rapt 
attention,  not  at  the  map,  but  at  Constance  her 
self. 

Every  curve  of  her  face  and  wave  of  her  hair, 
every  line  of  her  trim  figure  which  her  filmy 
gown  seemed  to  accentuate  rather  than  conceal 
added  fire  to  his  ardent  glances. 

He  touched  lightly  another  pin  sticking  in  a 
little,  almost  microscopic  island  of  the  Carib 
bean. 

"  Our  plan,  it  is  simple,"  he  continued  with 
64 


THE  GUN  EUNNEES  65 

animation  in  spite  of  his  foreign  accent.  "  On 
this  island  a  plant  to  print  paper  money,  to  coin 
silver.  With  that  we  shall  land,  pay  our  men 
as  they  flock  to  us,  collect  forces,  seize  cities, 
appropriate  the  customs.  Once  we  start,  it  is 
easy. ' ' 

Constance  looked  up  quickly.  "  But  that  is 
counterfeiting,"  she  exclaimed. 

"  No,"  rejoined  Santos,  "  it  is  a  war  meas 
ure.  We — the  provisional  government — merely 
coin  our  own  money.  Besides,  it  will  not  be 
done  in  this  country.  It  will  not  come  under 
your  laws." 

There  was  a  magnetism  about  the  man  that 
fascinated  her,  as  he  stood  watching  the  effect 
of  his  words.  Instinctively  she  knew  that  it 
was  not  alone  enthusiasm  over  his  scheme  that 
inspired  his  confidences. 

"  Though  we  are  not  counterfeiters,"  he 
went  on,  "  we  do  not  know  what  moment  our 
opponents  may  set  your  Secret  Service  to  des 
troy  all  our  hopes.  Besides,  we  must  have 
money — now — to  buy  machinery,  arms,  ammu 
nition.  We  must  find  some  one, ' '  he  lowered  his 
voice,  "  who  can  persuade  American  bankers 
and  merchants  to  take  risks  to  gain  valuable 
concessions  in  the  new  state." 

Santos  was  talking  rapidly  and  earnestly, 
urging  his  case  on  her. 


66  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

"  We  are  prepared,"  he  hurried  on  confi 
dentially,  * '  to  give  you,  Senora,  half  the  money 
that  you  can  raise  for  these  purposes." 

He  paused  and  stood  before  her.  He  was 
certainly  a  handsome  figure,  this  soldier  of  for 
tune,  and  he  was  at  his  best  now. 

Constance  looked  out  of  the  window  of  her 
sitting  room.  This  was  a  business  proposition, 
not  to  be  influenced  by  any  sentiment. 

She  watched  the  lights  moving  up  and  down 
the  river  and  bay.  There  were  craft  from  the 
ends  of  the  earth.  She  speculated  on  the 
romantic  secrets  hidden  in  liner  and  tramp. 
Surely  they  could  scarcely  be  more  romantic 
than  the  appeal  Santos  was  making. 

"  Will  you  help  us?  "  urged  Santos,  leaning 
further  over  the  map  to  read  her  averted 
face. 

In  her  loneliness  after  she  had  given  up  Mur 
ray  Dodge,  life  in  New  York  had  seemed  even 
more  bitter  to  Constance  than  before.  Yet  the 
great  city  cast  a  spell  over  her,  with  its  count 
less  opportunities  for  adventure.  She  could  not 
leave  it,  but  had  taken  a  suite  in  a  quiet  board 
ing  house  overlooking  the  bay  from  the  Heights 
in  Brooklyn. 

One  guest  in  particular  had  interested  her. 
He  was  a  Latin  American,  Ramon  Santos. 


THE  GUN  RUNNERS  67 

She  noticed  that  he  seldom  appeared  at  break 
fast  or  luncheon.  But  at  dinner  he  often  or 
dered  much  as  if  it  were  seven  o'clock  in  the 
morning  instead  of  the  evening.  He  was  a  mys 
tery  and  mysteries  interested  her.  Did  he  work 
all  night  and  sleep  all  day?  "What  was  he 
doing? 

She  was  astonished  a  few  nights  after  her 
arrival  to  receive  a  call  from  the  mysterious 
evening  breakfaster. 

"  Pardon^-I  intrude, "  he  began  gracefully, 
presenting  Ms  card.  "  But  I  have  heard  how 
clever  you  are,  Senora  Dunlap.  A  friend,  in 
an  importing  firm,  has  told  me  of  you,  a  Mr. 
Dodge." 

Constance  was  startled  at  the  name.  Mur 
ray  had  indeed  written  a  little  note  expressing 
his  entire  confidence  in  Mr.  Santos.  Formal 
as  it  was,  Constance  thought  she  could  read 
between  the  lines  the  same  feeling  toward  her 
that  he  had  expressed  at  their  parting. 

Santos  gave  her  no  time  to  live  over  the 
past. 

"  You  see,  Mrs.  Dunlap/'  he  explained,  as 
he  led  up  to  the  object  of  his  visit,  "  the  time 
has  come  to  overthrow  the  regime  in  Central 
America — for  a  revolution  which  will  bring  to 
gether  all  the  countries  in  a  union  like  the  old 
United  States  of  Central  America." 


US  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

He  had  spread  out  the  map  on  the  table. 

"  Only,"  he  added,  "  we  would  call  the  new 
state,  Vespuccia. ' ' 

"  We?  "  queried  Constance. 

"  Yes — my — colleagues — you  call  it  in  Eng 
lish?  "We  have  already  a  Junta  with  head 
quarters  in  an  old  loft  on  South  Street,  in  New 
York" 

Santos  indicated  the  plan  of  campaign  on 
the  map. 

"  We  shall  strike  a  blow,"  he  cried,  bringing 
his  fist  down  on  the  table  as  if  the  blow  had  al 
ready  fallen,  "  that  will  paralyze  the  enemy  at 
the  very  start!  " 

He  paused. 

1 1  Will  you  help  us  raise  the  money  ?  "  he  re 
peated  earnestly. 

Constance  had  been  inactive  long  enough. 
The  appeal  was  romantic,  almost  irresistible. 
Besides — no,  at  the  outset  she  put  out  of  con 
sideration  any  thought  of  the  fascinating 
young  soldier  of  fortune  himself. 

The  spirit  of  defiance  of  law  and  custom  was 
strong  upon  her.  That  was  all. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  "  I  will  help  you." 

Santos  leaned  over,  and  with  a  graceful 
gesture  that  she  could  not  resent,  raised  her 
finger  tips  gallantly  to  his  lips. 


THE  GUN  RUNNERS  69 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said  with  a  courtly  smile. 
"  We  have  already  won!  ' 

The  next  day  Ramon  introduced  her  to  the 
other  members  of  the  Junta.  It  was  evident 
that  he  was  in  fact  as  well  as  name  their  leader, 
but  they  were  not  like  the  usual  oily  plotters  of 
revolution  who  congregate  about  the  round 
tables  in  dingy  back  rooms  of  South  Street 
cafes,  apportioning  the  gold  lace,  the  offices, 
and  the  revenues  among  themselves.  There 
was  an  "  air  "  about  them  that  was  differ 
ent. 

"  Let  me  present  Captain  Lee  Gordon  of 
the  Arroyo,"  remarked  Santos,  coming  to  a 
stockily-built,  sun-burned  man  with  the  unmis- 
table  look  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  who  has  spent 
much  time  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  tropical 
sun.  "  The  Arroyo  is  the  ship  that  is  to 
carry  the  arms  and  the  plant  to  the  island — 
from  Brooklyn.  We  choose  Brooklyn  because  it 
is  quieter  over  there — fewer  people  late  at 
night  on  the  streets.  ' ' 

Captain  Gordon  bowed,  without  taking  his 
eyes  off  Constance. 

"  I  am,  like  yourself,  Mrs.  Dunlap,  a  recent 
recruit,"  he  explained.  "  It  is  a  wonderful 
plan,"  he  added  enthusiastically.  "  We  shall 
sweep  the  country  with  it. ' ' 

He  flicked  off  the  ash  of  his  inevitable  cig- 


70 

arette,  much  as  if  it  were  the  opposition  of  the 
governments  they  were  to  encounter. 

It  was  evident  that  the  Captain  was  much  im 
pressed  by  Constance.  Yet  she  instinctively 
disliked  the  man.  His  cameraderie  had  some 
thing  offensive  about  it,  as  contrasted  with  the 
deferential  friendship  of  Santos. 

With  all  her  energy,  however,  Constance 
plunged  directly  into  her  work.  Indeed,  even 
at  the  start  she  was  amazed  to  find  that  money 
for  a  revolution  could  be  raised  at  all.  She  soon 
found  that  it  could  be  done  more  easily  in  New 
York  than  anywhere  else  in  the  world. 

There  seemed  to  be  something  about  her  that 
apparently  appealed  to  those  whom  she  went  to 
see.  She  began  to  realize  what  a  tremendous 
advantage  a  woman  of  the  world  had  in  pre 
senting  the  case  and  convincing  a  speculator  of 
the  rich  .returns  if  the  revolution  should  prove 
successful.  More  than  that,  she  quickly  learned 
that  it  was  best  to  go  alone,  that  it  was  she,  quite 
as  much  as  the  promised  concessions  for  to 
bacco,  salt,  telegraph,  telephone  monopolies, 
that  loosed  the  purse  strings. 

Her  first  week's  report  of  pledges  ran  into 
the  thousands  with  a  substantial  immediate 
payment  of  real  dollars. 

"  How  did  you  do  it?  "  asked  Santos  in  un- 


THE  GUN  RUNNERS  71 

disguised  admiration,  as  she  was  telling  him 
one  night  of  her  success,  in  the  dusty,  cob- 
webbed  little  ship  chandlery  on  South  Street 
where  the  Junta  headquarters  had  been  estab 
lished. 

"  Dollar  diplomacy/'  she  laughed,  not  dis 
pleased  at  his  admiration.  "  We  shall  soon 
convert  American  dollars  into  Vespuccian  bul 
lets." 

They  were  alone,  and  a  week  had  made  much 
difference  in  the  fascinating  friendship  to  Con 
stance. 

"  Let  me  show  you  what  I  have  done," 
Ramon  confided.  1 1  Already,  I  have  started  to 
gether  the  *  counterfeiting  plant, '  as  you  call  it. ' ' 

Piece  by  piece,  as  he  had  been  able  to  afford 
them,  he  had  been  ordering  the  presses,  the 
stamping  machine,  and  a  little  "  reeding  "  or 
milling  machine  for  the  edges  of  the  coins. 

11  The  paper,  the  ink,  and  the  bullion,  we 
shall  order  now  as  we  can, ' '  he  explained,  rest 
ing  his  head  on  his  elbow  at  the  table  beside  her. 
11  Everything  will  be  secured  from  firms  which 
make  mint  supplies  for  foreign  governments. 
A  photo-engraver  is  now  engaged  on  the  work 
of  copying  the  notes.  He  is  making  the  plates 
by  the  photo-etching  process — the  same  as  that 
by  which  the  real  money  plates  are  made. 
Then,  too,  there  will  be  dies  for  the  coins. 


72  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

Coined  silver  will  be  worth  twice  the  cost  of 
the  bullion  to  us.  Why, ' '  he  added  eagerly, '  *  a 
few  more  successful  days,  Senora,  and  we  shall 
have  even  arms  and  ammunition. ' ' 

A  key  turned  in  the  door.  Santos  sprang  to 
his  feet.  It  was  Gordon. 

"  Ah,  good  evening,"  the  Captain  greeted 
them.  The  fact  that  they  had  been  talking  so 
earnestly  alone  was  not  lost  on  him.  "  May  I 
join  the  conspiracy?  "  he  smiled.  "  What  luck 
to-day?  By  the  way,  I  have  just  heard  of  a 
consignment  of  a  thousand  rifles  as  good  as  new 
that  can  be  bought  for  a  song. ' ' 

Santos,  elated  at  the  progress  so  far,  told 
hastily  of  Constance's  success.  "  Let  us  get 
an  option  on  them  for  a  few  days,"  he  cried. 

"  Good,"  agreed  Gordon,  "  only,"  he  added, 
shaking  his  finger  playfully  at  Constance,  as 
the  three  left  the  headquarters,  "  don't  let  the 
commander-in-chief  monopolize  all  your  time, 
Remember,  we  all  need  you  now.  Santos,  that 
was  an  inspiration  to  get  Mrs.  Dunlap  on  our 
side. ' ' 

Somehow  she  felt  uncomfortable.  She  half 
imagined  that  a  frown  had  flitted  over  Santos' 
face. 

"  Are  you  going  to  Brooklyn?  "  she  asked 
him. 


THE  GUN  RUNNERS  73 

"  No,  we  shall  be  working  at  the  Junta  late 
to-night, ' '  he  replied,  as  they  parted  at  the  sub 
way,  he  and  Gordon  to  secure  the  option  on  the 
guns,  she  to  plan  for  the  morrow. 

"  I  have  made  a  good  beginning,"  she  con 
gratulated  herself,  when,  later  in  her  rooms, 
she  was  going  over  the  list  of  names  of  com 
mission  merchants  who  handled  produce  of 
South  American  countries. 

There  was  a  tap  on  the  door. 

Quickly,  she  shoved  the  list  into  the  drawer 
of  the  table. 

"  A  gentleman  to  see  you,  downstairs, 
ma'am,"  announced  the  maid. 

As  she  pushed  aside  the  portieres,  her  heart 
gave  a  leap — it  was  Drummond. 

11  Mrs.  Dunlap,"  began  the  wily  detective, 
seeming  to  observe  everything  with  eyes  that 
seldom  had  the  appearance  of  looking  at  any 
thing,  "  I  think  you  will  recall  that  we  have  met 
before." 

Constance  bit  her  lip.  "  And  why  again?  " 
she  queried  curtly. 

' '  I  am  informed, ' '  he  went  on  coolly  ignoring 
her  curtness,  "  that  there  is  a  guest  in  this 
house  named  Santos — Ramon  Santos." 

He  said  it  in  a  half  insinuating,  half  ques 
tioning  tone. 


74  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

"  You  might  inquire  of  the  landlady,"  re 
plied  Constance,  now  perfectly  composed. 

"  Mrs.  Dunlap,"  he  burst  forth,  exasper 
ated,  "  what  is  the  use  of  beating  about?  Do 
you  know  the  real  character  of  this  Santos?  " 

"  It  is  a  matter  of  perfect  indifference,"  she 
returned. 

"  Then  you  do  not  think  a  warning  from  me 
worth  troubling  about?  "  demanded  the  detec 
tive. 

Constance  continued  to  stand  as  if  to  ter 
minate  the  interview. 

"  I  came  here,"  continued  the  detective 
showing  no  evidence  of  taking  the  hint,  "  to 
make  a  proposition  to  you.  Mrs.  Dunlap,  you 
are  in  bad  again.  But  this  time  there  is  a 
chance  for  you  to  get  out  without  risk.  I — I 
think  I  may  talk  plainly  1  We  understand  each 
other?  " 

His  manner  had  changed.  Constance  could 
not  have  described  to  herself  the  loathing  she 
felt  for  the  man  as  it  suddenly  flashed  over  her 
what  he  was  after.  If  she  had  resented  his 
familiarity  before,  it  brought  the  stinging 
blood  to  her  cheeks  now  to  realize  that  he  was 
actually  seeking  to  persuade  her  to  betray  her 
friends. 

"  Do  you  want  to  know  what  I  think?  "  she 


THE  GUN  EUNNEES  75 

scorned,  then  without  waiting  added,  "  I  think 
you  are  a  crook — a  blackmailer, — that's  what 
I  think  of  a  private  detective  like  you. ' ' 

The  defiance  of  the  little  woman  amazed  even 
Drummond.  Instead  of  fear  as  of  the  pursued, 
Constance  Dunlap  showed  all  the  boldness  of 
the  pursuer. 

"  You  have  got  to  stop  this  swindling,"  the 
detective  raged,  taking  a  step  closer  to  her.  ' '  I 
know  the  bankers  you  have  fooled.  I  know  how 
much  you  have  worked  them  for." 

"  Swindling?  "  she  repeated  coolly,  in  as 
sumed  surprise.  "  Who  says  I  am  swin 
dling?  " 

"  You  know  well  enough  what  I  mean — this 
revolution  that  is  being  planned  to  bring  about 
the  new  state  of  Vespuccia,  as  your  friends 
Santos  and  Gordon  call  it. ' ' 

"  Vespuccia — Santos — Gordon?  ' 

"  Yes,"  he  shouted,  "  Vespuccia — Santos — 
Gordon.  And  I'll  go  further.  I'll  tell  you 
something  you  may  not  care  to  hear." 

Drummond  leaned  over  closer  to  her  in  his 
favorite  bulldozing  manner  when  he  dealt  with 
a  woman.  All  the  malevolence  of  the  human 
bloodhound  seemed  concentrated  in  his  look. 

"  Who  forged  those  Carlton  Eealty  checks?  " 
he  hissed.  "  Who  played  off  the  weakness 
of  Dumont  and  Beverley  against  the  clever 


76  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

thefts  of  Mnrray  Dodge?  Who  is  using  a 
counterfeiter  and  a  soldier  of  fortune  and 
swindling  honest  American  bankers  and  busi 
ness  men  as  no  man  crook — you  seem  to  like 
that  word — crook — could  ever  do?  ' 

Constance  met  him  calmly.  "  Oh,"  she 
laughed  airily,  "  I  suppose  you  mean  to  im 
ply  that  it  is  I." 

"  I  don't  imply,"  he  ground  out,  "  I  assert 
— accuse. ' ' 

Constance  shrugged  her  pretty  shoulders. 

11  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I  am  employed  by 
the  Central  American  consulates  in  this  city," 
blustered  Drummond.  "  And  I  am  waiting 
only  for  one  thing.  The  moment  an  order  is 
given  for  the  withdrawal  of  that  stuff  from  the 
little  shop  in  South  Street — you  know  what  I 
mean — I  am  ready.  I  shall  not  be  alone,  then. 
You  will  have  the  power  of  the  United  States 
Secret  Service  to  deal  with,  this  time,  my  clever 
lady." 

"  Well,  what  of  that?  " 

"  There  is  this  much  of  it.  I  warn  you  now 
against  working  with  this  Santos.  He — you — 
can  make  no  move  that  we  do  not  know. ' ' 

Why  had  Drummond  come  to  see  her?  Con 
stance  was  asking  herself.  The  very  insolence 
of  the  man  seemed  to  arouse  all  the  combative- 
ness  of  her  nature.  The  detective  had  thought 


THE  GUN  KUNNEES  77 

to  * '  throw  a  scare  into  ' '  her.  She  turned  sud 
denly  and  swept  out  of  the  room. 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  kindness,"  she  said 
icily.  "  It  is  unnecessary.  Good-night. " 

In  her  own  room  she  paced  the  floor  ner 
vously,  now  that  the  strain  was  off.  Should  she 
desert  Santos  and  save  herself?  He  had  more 
need  of  her  help  now  than  ever  before.  She  did 
not  stop  to  analyze  her  own  feelings.  She  knew 
he  had  been  making  love  to  her  during  the  past 
week  as  only  a  Spaniard  could.  It  fascinated 
her  without  blinding  her.  Yes,  she  would  match 
her  wits  against  this  detective,  clever  though 
she  knew  he  was.  But  Santos  must  be  warned. 

Santos  and  Gordon  were  alone  when  she  burst 
in  on  them,  breathlessly,  an  hour  later  at  the 
Junta. 

11  What  is  the  matter?  "  inquired  Ramon 
quickly,  placing  a  chair  for  her. 

Gordon  looked  his  admiration  for  the  little 
woman,  though  he  did  not  speak  it.  She  saw 
him  cast  a  sidewise  glance  at  Santos  and  her 
self. 

Though  the  three  were  friends,  it  was  evi 
dent  to  her  that  Gordon  did  not  trust  Santos 
any  further  than  the  suspicious  Anglo-Saxon 
trusts  a  foreigner  usually  when  there  is  a 
woman  in  the  case. 

"  The    Secret    Service!  "    exclaimed    Con- 


78  CONSTANCE  DTJNLAP 

stance.  "  I  have  just  had  a  visit  from  a  private 
detective  employed  by  one  of  the  consulates. 
They  know  too  much.  He  has  threatened  to  tell 
all  to  the  Secret  Service,  has  even  had  the 
effrontery  to  ask  me  to  betray  you." 

"  The  scoundrel/'  burst  out  Santos  im 
pulsively. 

11  You  are  not  frightened?  "  Gordon  asked 
quickly. 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  expected  something  of 
the  sort  soon,  but  not  from  this  man.  I  can 
meet  him!  " 

"  Good,"  exclaimed  the  Captain. 

There  was  that  in  his  voice  that  caused  her 
to  look  at  him  quickly.  Santos  had  noticed  it, 
too,  and  a  sullen  scowl  spread  over  his  face. 

Intuitively  Constance  read  the  two  men  be 
fore  her.  She  had  fled  from  one  problem  to  a 
greater.  Both  Santos  and  Gordon  were  in  love 
with  her. 

In  the  whirl  of  this  new  discovery,  two  things 
alone  crowded  all  else  from  her  mind.  She 
must  contrive  to  hold  off  Drummond  until  that 
part  of  the  expedition  which  was  ready  could  be 
got  off.  And  she  must  play  the  jealous  rivals 
against  each  other  with  such  finesse  as  to  keep 
them  separated. 

Far  into  the  night  after,  she  had  left  tiie 


THE  GUN  EUNNEES  79 

Junta  she  debated  the  question  with  herself. 
She  could  not  turn  back  now.  The  attentions 
of  Gordon  were  offensive.  Yet  she  could  have 
given  no  other  reason  than  that  she  liked 
Santos  the  better.  Yet  what  was  Santos  to  her, 
after  all?  Once  she  had  let  herself  go  too  far. 
She  must  be  careful  in  this  case.  She  must  not 
allow  this  to  be  other  than  a  business  proposi 
tion. 

The  crisis  for  her  came  sooner  than  she  had 
anticipated.  It  was  the  day  after  the  visit  of 
Drummond.  She  was  waiting  at  the  Junta 
alone  for  Santos  when  Gordon  entered.  She 
had  dreaded  just  that.  There  was  no  mistaking 
the  man. 

"  Mrs.  Dunlap,"  began  Gordon  bending 
down  close  over  her. 

She  was  almost  trembling  with  emotion,  and 
he  saw  it. 

"  You  can  read  me  like  a  book/'  he  hurried 
on,  mistaking  her  feelings.  "  I  can  see  that 
you  know  how  much  I  think  of  you — how  much 
I—" 

"  No,  no,"  she  implored.  "  Don't  talk  to  me 
that  way.  Eemember — there  is  work  to  do. 
After  it  is  over — then — " 

"  Work!  "  he  scorned.  "  What  is  the  whole 
of  Central  America  to  me  compared  to  you?  " 

"  Captain  Gordon!  "  she  stood  facing  him. 


SO  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

"  You  must  not.  Listen  to  me.  You  do  not 
know — I — please,  please  leave  me.  Let  me 
think." 

She  did  not  dare  accept  him;  she  could  not 
reject  him.  It  seemed  that  with  an  almost 
superhuman  effort  Gordon  gripped  himself. 
But  he  did  not  go. 

Constance  was  distracted,  what  if  Santos  with 
his  fiery  nature  should  find  Gordon  talking  to 
ier  alone  ?  She  must  temporize. 

"  One  week,"  she  murmured.  "  When  the 
Arroyo  sails — that  night — I  shall  give  you  my 
answer. ' ' 

Gordon  shot  a  peculiar  glance  at  her — half 
doubt,  half  surprise.  But  she  was  gone.  As  she 
hurried  unexpectedly  out  of  the  Junta  she 
fancied  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  familiar 
figure.  It  must  have  been  Drummond.  Every 
move  at  the  Junta  was  being  watched. 

At  the  boarding  house  all  night  she  waited. 
She  must  see  Santos.  Plan  after  plan  whirled 
through  her  brain  as  the  hours  dragged. 

It  was  not  until  almost  morning  that,  seeing 
A  light,  he  tapped  cautiously  at  her  door. 

"  You  were  not  at  the  Junta  to-night,"  he 
jremarked. 

There  was  something  of  jealousy  in  the  tone. 

"  No.    There  is  something  I  wanted  to  say  to 


THE  GUN  RUNNERS  81 

yon  where  we  should  not  be  interrupted, "  she 
answered  as  he  sat  down. 

A  fold  of  her  filmy  honse  dress  fluttered  near 
him.  Involuntarily  he  moved  closer.  His  eyes 
met  hers.  She  could  feel  the  passions  surging 
in  the  man  beside  her. 

"  I  saw  Drummond  again,  to-day,"  she  be 
gan.  ' '  Captain  Gordon — ' ' 

The  intense  look  of  hatred  that  blazed  in 
the  eyes  of  Santos  frightened  her.  What  might 
have  happened  if  he  instead  of  Gordon  had  met 
her  at  the  Junta  she  could  not  have  said.  But 
now  she  must  guard  against  it.  If  flashed  over 
her  that  there  was  only  one  thing  to  be  done. 

She  rose  and  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm.  As 
quickly  the  look  changed.  There  was  only  one 
way  to  do  it;  she  must  make  this  man  think 
they  understood  each  other  without  saying  so. 

*  *  You  must  get  the  counterfeiting  plant  down 
on  the  island — immediately — alone.  Don't  tell 
any  of  the  others  until  it  is  there  safely.  You 
were  going  to  send  it  down  on  the  Arroyo  next 
week.  It  must  not  go  from  New  York  at  all. 
It  must  be  shipped  by  rail,  and  then  from  New 
Orleans.  You  must — " 

"  But — Gordon?  "    His  voice  was  hoarse. 

She  looked  at  Santos  long  and  earnestly.  '  *  I 
will  take  care  of  him,'*  she  said  in  a  tone  that 
Santos  could  not  mistake.  "  No — Ramon,  no. 


82  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

After  the  revolution — perhaps — who  shall  say? 
But  now — to  work !  ' 

It  was  with  a  sigh  of  relief  that  she  sank  to 
rest  at  last  when  he  had  gone.  For  the  moment 
she  had  won. 

Piece  by  piece,  Santos  and  she  secretly 
carried  out  the  goods  that  had  already  been  col 
lected  at  the  Junta,  during  the  next  few  days. 
"Without  a  word  to  a  soul  they  were  shipped 
south.  The  boxes  and  barrels  remained  in  the 
musty  shop,  apparently  undisturbed. 

Next  the  order  for  the  arms  and  ammunition 
was  quietly  diverted  so  that  they,  too,  were  on 
their  way  to  New  Orleans.  Instead,  cases 
resembling  them  were  sent  to  the  Junta  head 
quarters.  Drummond,  least  of  all,  must  be 
allowed  to  think  that  there  was  any  change  in 
their  plans. 

While  Santos  was  at  work  gathering  the 
parts,  the  stamping  machine,  the  press,  the  dies, 
the  plates,  and  the  rest  of  the  counterfeiting 
plant  which  had  not  yet  been  delivered,  Con 
stance,  during  the  hours  that  she  was  not  col 
lecting  money  from  the  concession-grabbers, 
haunted  the  Junta.  There  was  every  evidence 
of  activity  there  as  the  week  advanced. 

She  was  between  two  fires,  yet  never  had  she 
enjoyed  the  tang  of  adventure  more  than  now. 


THE  GUN  RUNNERS  83 

It  was  a  keen  pleasure  to  feel  that  she  was  out 
witting  Drummond  when,  as  some  apparently 
insurmountable  difficulty  arose,  she  would  over 
come  it  More  delicate  was  it,  however,  to 
preserve  the  balance  between  Santos  and  Gor 
don.  In  fact  it  seemed  that  the  more  she  sought 
to  avoid  Gordon,  the  more  jealously  did  he  pur 
sue  her.  It  was  a  tangled  skein  of  romance  and 
intrigue  that  Constance  was  weaving. 

At  last  all  was  ready.  It  was  the  night  before 
the  departure  of  Santos  for  the  south.  Con 
stance  had  decided  on  the  last  interview  in  her 
own  rooms  where  the  first  had  been. 

"  I  shall  go  ahead  preparing  as  if  to  ship 
the  things  on  the  Arroyo,"  she  said.  "  Let  me 
know  by  the  code  the  moment  you  are  ready." 

Santos  was  looking  at  her,  oblivious  of  every 
thing  else. 

He  reached  over  and  took  her  hand.  She 
knew  this  was  the  moment  against  which  she 
had  steeled  herself. 

11  Come  with  me,"  he  asked  suddenly. 

She  could  feel  his  breath,  hotly,  on  her 
cheek. 

It  was  the  final  struggle.  If  she  let  go  of 
herself,  all  would  be  lost. 

"  No,  Ramon,"  she  said  softly,  but  without 
withdrawing  her  hand.  "  It  can  never  be — • 
listen. ' ' 


84  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

It  was  terrific,  to  hold  in  check  a  nature  such 
as  his. 

'  *  I  went  into  this  scheme  for — for  money.  I 
have  it  We  have  raised  nearly  forty  thousand 
dollars.  Twenty  thousand  you  have  given  me 
as  my  share." 

She  paused.  He  was  paying  no  attention  to 
her  words.  His  whole  self  was  centered  on  her 
face. 

*  *  With  me, ' '  she  continued,  half  wearily  with 
drawing  her  hand  as  she  assumed  the  part  she 
had  decided  on  for  herself,  "  with  me,  Ramon, 
love  is  dead — dead.  I  have  seen  too  much  of  the 
world.  Nothing  has  any  fascination  for  me  now 
except  excitement,  money — " 

He  gently  leaned  over  and  recovered  the  hand 
that  she  had  withdrawn.  Quickly  he  raised  it  to 
his  lips  as  he  had  done  that  first  night. 

"  You  are  mine,"  he  whispered,  "  not  his." 

She  did  not  withdraw  the  hand  this  time. 

"  No — not  his — nobody's." 

For  a  moment  the  adventurers  understood 
each  other. 

' '  Not  his, ' '  he  muttered  fiercely  as  he  threw 
his  arms  about  her  wildly,  passionately. 

"  Nobody's,"  she  panted  as  she  gave  one 
answering  caress,  then  struggled  from  him. 

She  had  conquered  not  only  Eamon  Santos 
but  Constance  Dunlap. 


THE  GUN  RUNNERS  85 

Early  the  next  morning  lie  was  speeding 
southward  over  the  clicking  rails. 

Every  energy  must  be  bent  toward  keeping 
the  new  scheme  secret  until  it  was  carried  out 
successfully.  Not  a  hint  must  get  to  Drummond 
that  there  was  any  change  in  the  activities  of  the 
Junta.  As  for  the  Junta  itself,  there  was  no 
one  of  those  who  believed  implicitly  in  Santos 
whom  Constance  need  fear,  except  Gordon. 
Gordon  was  the  bete  noire. 

Two  days  passed  and  she  was  able  to  guard 
the  secret,  as  well  as  to  act  as  though  nothing 
had  happened.  Santos  had  left  a  short  note  for 
the  Ju^ta  telling  them  that  he  would  be  away 
for  a  short  time  putting  the  finishing  touches  on 
the  purchase  of  the  arms.  The  arrival  of  a  cart 
load  of  cases  at  the  Junta,  which  Constance  ar 
ranged  for  herself,  bore  out  the  letter.  Still, 
she  waited  anxiously  for  word  from  him. 

The  day  set  for  the  sailing  of  the  Arroyo 
arrived  and  with  it  at  last  a  telegram:  "  Buy 
corn,  oats,  wheat.  Sell  cotton." 

It  was  the  code,  telling  of  the  safe  arrival  of 
the  rifles,  cartridges  and  the  counterfeiting 
plant  in  New  Orleans,  a  little  late,  but  safe. 
11  Sell  cotton,"  meant  "  I  sail  to-night." 

On  the  way  over  to  the  Junta,  she  had  noticed 
one  of  Drummond 's  shadows  dogging  her.  She 


86  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

must  do  anything  to  keep  the  secret  until  that 
night. 

She  hurried  into  the  dusty  ship  chandlery. 
There  was  Gordon. 

"  Good  morning,  Mrs.  Dunlap,"  he  cried. 
"  You  are  just  the  person  I  am  looking  for. 
Where  is  Santos?  Has  the  plan  been 
changed?  " 

Constance  thought  she  detected  a  shade  of 
jealousy  in  the  tone.  At  any  rate,  Gordon  was 
more  attentive  than  ever. 

* '  I  think  he  is  in  Bridgeport, ' '  she  replied  as 
casually  as  she  could.  "  Your  ship,  you  know, 
sails  to-night.  He  has  sent  word  to  in**  to  give 
orders  that  all  the  goods  here  at  the  Junta  be 
ready  to  cart  over  by  truck  to  Brooklyn.  There 
has  been  no  change.  The  papers  are  to  be 
signed  during  the  day  and  she  is  to  be  scheduled 
to  sail  late  in  the  afternoon  with  the  tide.  Only, 
as  you  know,  some  pretext  must  delay  you.  You 
will  hold  her  at  the  pier  for  us.  He  trusts  all 
that  to  you  as  a  master  hand  at  framing  such 
excuses  that  seem  plausible." 

Gordon  leaned  over  closer  to  her.  He  was 
positively  revolting  to  her  in  the  role  of 
admirer.  But  she  must  not  offend  him — yet. 

"  And  my  answer?  "  he  asked. 

There  was  something  about  him  that  made 
Constance  almost  draw  away  involuntarily. 


THE  GUN  RUNNERS  87 

"  To-night — at  the  pier,"  she  murmured  forc 
ing  a  smile. 

Shortly  after  dark  the  teams  started  their 
lumbering  way  across  the  city  and  the  bridge. 
Messengers,  stationed  on  the  way,  were  to  re 
port  the  safe  progress  of  the  trucks  to 
Brooklyn. 

Constance  slipped  away  from  the  boarding- 
house,  down  through  the  deserted  streets  to  the 
waterfront,  leaving  word  at  home  that  any  mes 
sage  was  to  be  sent  by  a  trusty  boy  to  the 
pier. 

It  was  a  foggy  and  misty  night  on  the  water, 
an  ideal  night  for  the  gun-runner.  She  was 
relieved  to  learn  that  there  had  been  not  a 
hitch  so  far.  Still,  she  reasoned,  that  was 
natural.  Drummond,  even  if  he  had  not  been 
outwitted,  would  scarcely  have  spoiled  the 
game  until  the  last  moment. 

On  the  Arroyo  every  one  was  chafing.  Be 
low  decks,  the  engineer  and  his  assistants  were 
seeing  that  the  machinery  was  in  perfect  order. 
Men  in  the  streets  were  posted  to  give  Gordon 
warning  of  any  danger. 

In  the  river  a  tug  was  watching  for  a  pos 
sible  police  boat.  On  the  wharf  the  only  foot 
falls  were  those  of  Gordon  himself  and  an  as 
sistant  from  the  Junta.  It  was  dreary  waiting, 

7 


88  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

and  Constance  drew  her  coat  more  closely 
around  her,  as  she  shivered  in  the  night  wind 
and  tried  to  brace  herself  against  the  unex 
pected. 

At  last  the  welcome  muffled  rumble  of  heavily 
laden  carts  disturbed  the  midnight  silence  of 
the  street  leading  to  the  river. 

At  once  a  score  of  men  sprang  from  the  hold 
of  the  ship,  as  if  by  magic.  One  by  one  the 
cases  were  loaded.  The  men  were  working 
feverishly  by  the  light  of  battle  lanterns — big 
lamps  with  reflectors  so  placed  as  to  throw  the 
light  exactly  where  it  was  needed  and  nowhere 
else.  They  were  taking  aboard  the  Arroyo 
dozens  of  coffin-like  wooden  cases,  and  bags 
and  boxes,  smaller  and  even  heavier.  Silently 
and  swiftly  they  toiled. 

It  was  risky  work,  too,  at  night  and  in  the 
tense  haste. .  There  was  a  muttered  exclama 
tion — a  heavy  case  had  dropped!  a  man  had 
gone  down  with  a  broken  leg. 

It  was  a  common  thing  with  the  gun-runners. 
The  crew  of  the  Arroyo  had  expected  it.  The 
victim  of  such  an  accident  could  not  be  sent  to 
a  hospital  ashore.  He  was  carried,  as  gently 
as  the  rough  hands  could  carry  anything,  to  one 
side,  where  he  lay  silently  waiting  for  the  ship  'a 
surgeon  who  had  been  engaged  for  just  such  an 


THE  GUN  RUNNERS  89 

emergency.  Constance  bent  over  and  made  the 
poor  fellow  as  comfortable  as  she  could. 
There  was  never  a  whimper  from  him,  but  he 
looked  his  gratitude. 

Scarcely  a  fraction  of  a  minute  had  been  lost. 
The  last  cases  were  now  being  loaded.  The 
tug  crawled  up  and  made  fast.  Already  the 
empty  trucks  were  vanishing  in  the  misty 
darkness,  one  by  one,  as  muffled  as  they  came. 

Suddenly  lights  flashed  through  the  fog  on 
the  river. 

There  was  a  hurried  tread  of  feet  on  the  land 
from  around  the  corner  of  a  bleak,  forbidding 
black  warehouse. 

They  were  surrounded.  On  one  side  was  the 
police  boat  Patrol.  On  the  other  was  Drum- 
mond.  With  both  was  the  Secret  Service.  The 
surprise  was  complete. 

Constance  turned  to  Gordon.    He  was  gone. 

Before  she  could  move,  some  one  seized  her. 

"  Where's  Santos?  '  demanded  a  hoarse 
voice  in  her  ear.  She  looked  up  to  see  Drum- 
mond. 

She  shut  her  lips  tightly,  secure  in  the  secret 
that  Ramon  was  at  the  moment  or  soon  would 
be  on  the  Gulf,  out  of  reach. 

Across  in  the  fog  she  strained  her  eyes.  Was 
that  the  familiar  figure  of  Gordon  moving  in 
the  dim  light? 


90  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

There  lie  was,  now, — with  Drummond,  the 
police,  and  the  Secret  Service.  It  was  exactly 
as  she  had  suspected  to  herself,  and  a  smile 
played  over  her  face. 

All  was  excitement,  shouts,  muttered  im 
precations.  Constance  was  the  calmest  in  the 
crowd — deaf  to  even  Drummond  *s  "  third  de 
gree.  ' ' 

They  had  begun  to  break  open  the  boxes 
marked  "  salt  "  and  "  corn." 

A  loud  exclamation  above  the  sharp  crunch 
ing  of  the  axes  escaped  Gordon.  * l  Damn  them ! 
They've  put  one  across  on  us!  " 

The  boxes  of  * '  salt ' '  and  ' '  corn  ' '  contained 
— salt  and  corn. 

Not  a  stock  of  a  rifle,  not  a  barrel,  not  a 
cartridge  was  in  any  of  them  as  the  axes 
crashed  in  one  case  after  another. 

A  boy  with  a  telegram  emerged  indiscreetly 
from  the  misty  shadows.  Drummond  seized  it, 
tore  it  open,  and  read, '  *  Buy  cotton. ' ' 

It  was  the  code :    "I  am  off  safely. ' ' 

The  double  cross  had  worked.  Constance  was 
thinking,  as  she  smiled  to  herself,  of  the  money, 
her  share,  which  she  had  hidden.  There  was 
not  a  scrap  of  tangible  evidence  against  her, 
except  what  Santos  had  carried  with  him  in  the 
filibustering  expedition  already  off  from  New 
Orleans.  Her  word  would  stand  against  that  of 


THE  GUN  RUNNERS  91 

all  of  the  victims  combined  before  any  jury 
that  could  be  empaneled. 

1  i  You  thought  I  needed  a  warning, ' '  she  cried, 
facing  Drummond  with  eyes  that  flashed  scorn 
at  the  skulking  figure  of  Gordon  behind  him. 
"  But  the  next  time  you  employ  a  stool-pigeon 
to  make  love,"  she  added,  "  reckon  in  that  thing 
you  detectives  scorn — a  woman's  intuition.'1 


CHAPTEE  IV 

THE    GAMBLERS 

"  WON'T  you  come  over  to  see  me  to-night? 
Just  a  friendly  little  game,  my  dear — our  own 
crowd,  you  knowT." 

There  was  something  in  the  purring  tone 
of  the  invitation  of  the  woman  across  the 
hall  from  Constance  Dunlap's  apartment  that 
aroused  her  curiosity. 

"  Thank  you.  I  believe  I  will,"  answered 
Constance.  "  It's  lonely  in  a  big  city  without 
friends. ' ' 

"  Indeed  it  is,"  agreed  Bella  LeMar.  "  I've 
been  watching  you  for  some  time  and  wondering 
how  you  stand  it.  Now  be  sure  to  come,  won't 
you!  " 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  do  so,"  assured  Con 
stance,  as  they  reached  their  floor  and  parted  at 
the  elevator  door. 

She  had  been  watching  the  other  woman,  too, 
although  she  had  said  nothing  about  it. 

"  A  friendly  little  game,"  repeated  Con 
stance  to  herself.  "  That  sounds  as  if  it  had 
the  tang  of  an  adventure  in  it  I'll  go." 

92 


THE  GAMBLERS  93 

The  Mayf  air  Arms,  in  which  she  had  taken  a 
modest  suite  of  rooms,  was  a  rather  recherche 
apartment,  and  one  of  her  chief  delights  since 
she  had  been  there  had  been  in  watching  the 
other  occupants. 

There  had  been  much  to  interest  her  in  the 
menage  across  the  hall.  Mrs.  Bella  LeMar, 
as  she  called  herself,  was  of  a  type  rather 
common  in  the  city,  an  attractive  widow  on 
the  safe  side  of  forty,  well-groomed,  often 
daringly  gowned.  Her  brown  eyes  snapped 
vivacity,  and  the  pert  little  nose  and  racy  ex 
pression  of  the  mouth  confirmed  the  general 
impression  that  Mrs.  LeMar  liked  the  good 
things  of  life. 

Quite  naturally,  Constance  observed,  her 
neighbor  had  hosts  of  friends  who  often  came 
early  and  stayed  late,  friends  who  seemed  to 
exude,  as  it  were,  an  air  of  prosperity  and  high 
living.  Clearly,  she  was  a  woman  to  cultivate. 
Constance  felt  even  more  interest  in  her,  now 
that  Mrs.  LeMar  had  pursued  a  bowing  ac 
quaintance  to  the  point  of  an  unsolicited  invita 
tion. 

"  A  friendly  little  game,"  she  speculated. 
"  What  is  the  game?  " 

That  night  found  Constance  at  the  buzzer  be 
side  the  heavy  mahogany  door  across  the  hall. 


94  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

She  wore  a  new  evening  gown  of  warm  red. 
Her  face  glowed  with  heightened  color,  and  her 
nerves  were  on  the  qui  vive  for  the  unlocking  at 
last  of  the  mystery  of  the  fascinating  Mrs.  Le- 
Mar. 

"  So  glad  to  see  you,  my  dear,"  smiled  Bella, 
holding  out  her  hand  engagingly.  "  You  are 
just  in  time." 

Already  several  of  the  guests  had  arrived. 
There  was  an  air  of  bonhomie  as  Bella  pre 
sented  them  to  Constance — a  stocky,  red-faced 
man  with  a  wide  chest  and  narrow  waist,  Ross 
Watson ;  a  tall,  sloping-shouldered  man  who  in 
clined  his  head  forward  earnestly  when  he 
talked  to  a  lady  and  spoke  with  animation, 
Haddon  Halsey;  and  a  fair-haired,  baby-blue 
eyed  little  woman  gowned  in  becoming  pink, 
Mrs.  Lansing  Noble. 

"  Now  we're   all   here— just  enough  for   a 
game,"  remarked  Bella  in  a  business-like  tone. 
* '  Oh,  I  beg  pardon — you  play,  Mrs.  Dunlap  ?  ' 
she  added  to  Constance. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  Constance  replied.  "  Almost 
anything — a  little  bit. ' ' 

She  had  already  noted  that  the  chief  object 
in  the  room,  after  all,  appeared  to  be  a  round 
table.  About  it  the  guests  seemed  naturally  to 
take  their  places. 

"  What  shall  it  be  to-night — bridge?  "  asked 


THE  GAMBLERS  95 

Watson,  nonchalantly  fingering  a  little  pack  of 
gilt-edged  cards  which  Bella  had  produced. 

11  Oh,  no,"  cried  Mrs.  Noble.  "  Bridge  is 
such  a  bore." 

"Bum!  " 

"  No — no.    The  regular  game — poker." 

"  A  dollar  limit?  " 

"  Oh,  make  it  five,"  drawled  Halsey  im 
patiently. 

Watson  said  nothing,  but  Bella  patted 
Halsey 's  hand  in  approval,  as  if  all  were  on 
very  good  terms  indeed.  "  I  think  that  will 
make  a  nice  little  game,"  she  cut  in,  opening 
a  drawer  from  which  she  took  out  a  box  of 
blue,  red  and  white  chips  of  real  ivory.  Watson 
seemed  naturally  to  assume  the  role  of  banker. 

"  Aren't  you  going  to  join  us?  "  asked  Con 
stance. 

"  Oh,  I  seldom  play.  You  know,  I'm  teo 
busy  entertaining  you  people,"  excused  Bella, 
as  she  bustled  out  of  the  room,  reappearing  a 
few  minutes  later  with  the  maid  and  a  tray 
of  slender  hollow-stemmed  glasses  with  a  bottle 
wrapped  in  a  white  napkin  in  a  pail  of  ice. 

Mrs.  Noble  shuffled  the  cards  with  practiced 
hand  and  Watson  kept  a  calculating  eye  on 
every  face.  Luck  was  not  with  Constance  on 
the  first  deal  and  she  dropped  out. 


96  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

Mrs.  Noble  and  Halsey  were  betting  eagerly. 
Watson  was  coolly  following  along  until  the 
show-down — which  he  won. 

"  Of  all  things,"  exclaimed  the  little  woman 
in  pink,  plainly  betraying  her  vexation  at  los 
ing.  "  Will  luck  never  turn?  " 

Halsey  said  nothing. 

Constance  watched  in  amazement.  This  was 
no  ' '  friendly  little  game. ' '  The  faces  were  too 
tense,  too  hectic.  The  play  was  too  high,  and 
the  desire  to  win  too  great.  Mrs.  LeMar  was 
something  more  than  a  gracious  hostess  in  her 
solicitude  for  her  guests. 

All  the  time  the  pile  of  chips  in  front  of 
Watson  kept  building  up.  At  each  new  deal  a 
white  chip  was  placed  in  a  little  box — the  kitty 
— for  the  "  cards  and  refreshments." 

It  was  in  reality  one  of  the  new  style  gam 
bling  joints  for  men  and  women. 

The  gay  parties  of  callers  on  Mrs.  LeMar 
were  nothing  other  than  gamblers.  The  old 
gambling  dens  of  the  icebox  doors  and  steel 
gratings,  of  white-coated  servants  and  free  food 
and  drink,  had  passed  away  with  "  reform." 
Here  was  a  remarkable  new  phase  of  sporting 
life  which  had  gradually  taken  its  place. 

Constance  had  been  looking  about  curiously 
in  the  meantime.  On  a  table  she  saw  copies  of 
the  newspapers  which  published  full  accounts  of 


THE  GAMBLERS  97 

the  races,  something  that  looked  like  a  racing 
sheet,  and  a  telephone  conveniently  located  near 
writing  materials.  It  was  a  poolroom,  too,  then, 
in  the  daytime,  she  reasoned. 

Surely,  in  the  next  room,  when  the  light  was 
on,  she  saw  what  looked  like  a  miniature 
roulette  wheel,  not  one  of  the  elaborate  affairs 
of  bright  metal  and  ebony,  but  one  of  those  that 
can  almost  be  packed  into  a  suitcase  and  carried 
about  easily. 

That  was  the  secret  of  the  flashily  dressed 
men  and  women  who  called  on  Bella  LeMar. 
They  were  risking  everything,  perhaps  even 
honor  itself,  on  a  turn  of  a  wheel,  the  fall  of  a 
card,  a  guess  on  a  horse. 

Why  had  Bella  LeMar  invited  her  here?  she 
asked  herself. 

At  first  Constance  was  a  little  bit  afraid  that 
she  might  have  plunged  into  too  deep  water. 
She  made  up  her  mind  to  quit  when  her  losses 
reached  a  certain  nominal  point.  But  they  did 
not  reach  it.  Perhaps  the  gamblers  were  too 
clever.  But  Constance  seemed  always  to  keep 
just  a  little  bit  ahead  of  the  game. 

One  person  in  particular  in  the  group  inter 
ested  her  as  she  endeavored  intuitively  to  take 
their  measure.  It  was  Haddon  Halsey,  im 
maculately  garbed,  with  all  those  little  touches 
of  smartness  which  women  like  to  see. 


98  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

Once  she  caught  Halsey  looking  intently  at 
her.  Was  it  he  who  was  letting  her  win  at  his 
expense?  Or  was  his  attention  to  her  causing 
him  to  neglect  his  own  game  and  play  it  poorly  ! 

She  decided  to  quit.  She  was  a  few  dollars 
ahead.  For  excuse  she  pleaded  a  headache. 

Bella  accepted  the  excuse  with  a  cordial  nod 
and  a  kind  inquiry  whether  she  might  not  like 
to  lie  down. 

"  No,  thank  you,"  murmured  Constance. 
"  But  the  cards  make  me  nervous  to-night. 
Just  let  me  sit  here.  I'll  be  all  right  in  a 
minute." 

As  she  lolled  back  on  a  divan  near  the  players 
Constance  noted,  or  thought  she  noted,  now  and 
then  exchanges  of  looks  between  Bella  and 
Watson.  What  was  the  bond  of  intimacy  be 
tween  them?  She  noted  on  Mrs.  Noble's  part 
that  she  was  keenly  alive  to  everything  that 
Halsey  did.  It  was  a  peculiar  quadrangle. 

Halsey  was  losing  heavily  in  his  efforts  to 
retrieve  his  fortunes.  He  said  nothing,  but 
accepted  the  losses  grimly.  Mrs.  Noble,  how 
ever,  after  each  successive  loss  seemed  more 
and  more  nervous. 

At  last,  with  a  hasty  look  at  her  wrist  watch, 
she  gave  a  little  suppressed  scream. 

"  How  the  time  flies!  "  she  cried.     "  Who 


99 

would  have  thought  it  as  late  as  that?  Eeally 
I  must  go.  I  expect  my  husband  back  from  a 
director's  meeting  at  ten,  and  it's  much  easier 
to  be  home  than  to  have  to  think  up  an  excuse. 
No,  Haddon,  don 't  disturb  yourself.  I  shall  get 
a  cab  at  the  door.  Let  me  see — two  hundred 
and  twenty-eight  dollars."  She  paused  as  if 
the  loss  staggered  her.  "  I'll  have  to  sign  an 
other  I  0  U  for  it,  Bella.  There !  " 

She  left  in  a  flutter,  as  if  some  one  had  winked 
out  the  light  by  which  she,  poor  little  butter 
fly,  had  singed  her  wings,  and  there  was  nothing 
for  her  but  to  fly  away  alone  in  the  darkness 
with  her  secret. 

Halsey  accompanied  her  to  the  door.  For  a 
moment  she  raised  a  questioning  face  to  his,  and 
shot  a  half  covert  glance  at  Constance.  Then, 
as  if  with  an  effort,  adhering  to  her  first  resolu 
tion  to  go  alone,  she  whimpered  earnestly,  "  I 
hope  you  win.  Luck  must  turn." 

Halsey  plunged  back  into  the  game,  now  with 
Bella  holding  a  hand.  He  played  recklessly, 
then  conservatively.  It  made  no  difference. 
The  cards  seemed  always  against  him.  Con 
stance  began  really  to  feel  alarmed  at  his 
manner. 

Once,  however,  he  chanced  to  look  up  at  her. 
Something  in  her  face  must  have  impressed 
him.  Turning,  he  flung  down  the  cards  in  dis- 


100  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

gust.  "  That's  enough  for  to-night,"  he  ex 
claimed,  rising  and  draining  another  glass  on 
the  tray. 

"  Luck  will  come  your  way  soon  again," 
urged  Bella.  "  It  all  averages  up  in  the  end, 
you  know.  It  has  to." 

"  How  did  you  enjoy  the  evening?''  in 
sinuated  Bella. 

"  Very  much,"  replied  Constance  enthusi 
astically.  ' '  It  is  so  exciting,  you  know. ' ' 

"  You  must  come  again  when  more  of  my 
friends  are  here. ' ' 

"  I  should  like  to.  But  to-night  was  very 
nice. ' ' 

Halsey  looked  at  her  contemplatively.  She 
had  risen  to  go.  As  she  took  a  step  or  two 
toward  the  door,  still  facing  them,  she  found 
Halsey  at  her  side. 

"  Shall  we  go  over  to  Jack's  for  a  bite  to 
eat?  "  he  whispered. 

There  was  as  much  of  appeal  in  his  under 
tone  as  of  invitation. 

"  Thank  you.  I  shall  be  glad  to  go,"  Con 
stance  assented  quickly. 

There  was  something  about  Haddon  Halsey 
that  interested  her.  Perhaps  Bella  and  Watson 
exchanged  a  knowing  glance  as  she  crossed  the 
hall  for  her  firraps.  Whatever  it  was,  Constance 


THE  GAMBLERS  101 

determined  to  see  the  thing  through  to  a  finish, 
confident  that  she  was  quite  able  to  take  care 
of  hers  elf , 

Outside  the  raw  night  air  smote  dankly  on 
their  fevered  faces.  As  they  walked  along 
briskly,  too  glad  to  get  into  the  open  to  summon 
a  cab,  Constance  happened  to  turn.  She  had 
an  uncomfortable  feeling.  She  could  have 
sworn  some  one  was  following  them.  She  said 
nothing  about  a  figure  a  few  feet  behind  them. 

The  lively,  all-night  restaurant  was  thronged. 
Halsey  seemed  to  throw  himself  into  the  gayety 
with  reckless  abandon,  ordering  about  twice  as 
much  as  they  could  eat  and  drink.  But  in  spite 
of  the  fascination  of  the  scene,  Constance  could 
not  forget  the  dark  figure  skulking  behind  them 
in  the  shadow  of  the  street. 

Once  she  looked  up.  At  another  table  she 
could  just  catch  a  glimpse  of  Drummond,  of  the 
Burr  Detective  Agency,  alone,  oblivious. 

Never  did  he  look  at  them.  There  was  noth 
ing  to  indicate  that  he  was  even  interested. 
But  Constance  knew  that  that  was  the  method 
of  his  shadowing.  Never  for  a  moment,  she 
knew,  did  he  permit  himself  to  look  into  the  eyes 
of  his  quarry,  even  for  the  most  fleeting  glance. 

She  knew,  too,  that  there  must  be  some 
psychological  reason  for  his  not  looking  at 
them,  as  he  otherwise  must  have  done,  if  only 


102  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

by  chance.  It  was  the  method  followed  by  the 
expert  modern  trailer.  She  knew  that  if  one 
looks  at  a  person  intently  while  in  a  public 
place,  for  instance,  it  will  not  be  long  before  the 
gaze  will  be  returned.  Try  as  she  would,  she 
could  not  catch  Drummond  's  eye,  however. 

Halsey,  now  that  the  strain  of  the  game  was 
off,  was  rattling  along  about  his  losses  in  an 
undertone  to  her. 

* '  But  what  of  it  ?  "he  concluded.  ' '  Any  day 
luck  may  change.  As  for  myself,  I  go  always 
on  the  assumption  that  I  am  the  one  exception — 
unlucky  both  at  cards  and  love.  If  the  event 
proves  I  am  right,  I  am  not  disappointed.  If  I 
am  wrong,  then  I  am  happy." 

There  was  something  in  the  tone  of  the 
whimsicality  that  alarmed  her.  It  covered  a 
desperation  which  she  felt  instinctively. 

Why  was  he  talking  thus  to  her,  almost  a 
stranger?  Surely  it  could  not  have  been  for 
that  that  Bella  LeMar  had  brought  them  to 
gether. 

Gradually  it  came  to  her.  The  man  had 
really,  honestly  been  struck  by  her  from  the 
moment  of  their  introduction.  Instead  of  allow 
ing  others,  to  say  nothing  of  himself,  to  lead 
her  on  in  the  path  he  and  Mrs.  Noble  and  the 
others  had  entered,  he  was  taking  the  bit  in  his 


THE  GAMBLERS  103 

teeth,  like  a  high-strung  race  horse,  and  was 
running  away,  now  that  Bella  LeMar  for  the 
moment  did  not  hold  the  reins.  He  was  warn 
ing  her  openly  against  the  game ! 

Somehow  the  action  appealed  to  Constance. 
It  was  genuine,  disinterested.  Secretly,  it  was 
flattering.  Still,  she  said  nothing  about  Bella, 
nor  about  Mrs.  Noble.  Halsey  seemed  to  ap 
preciate  the  fact.  His  face  showed  plainly  as 
if  he  had  said  it  that  here,  at  least,  was  one 
woman  who  was  not  always  talking  about 
others. 

There  had  been  a  rapid-fire  suddenness  about 
his  confidences  which  had  fascinated  her. 

"  Are  you  in  business?  "  she  ventured. 

1 '  Oh,  yes, ' '  he  laughed  grimly.  ' '  I  'm  in  busi 
ness — treasurer  of  the  Exporting  &  Manufac 
turing  Company." 

"  But,"  she  pursued,  looking  him  frankly  in 
the  face,  "  I  should  think  you'd  be  afraid  to — 
er — become  involved " 

"  I  know  I  am  being  watched,"  he  broke  in 
impatiently.  "  You  see,  I'm  bonded,  and  the 
bonding  companies  keep  a  pretty  sharp  lookout 
on  your  habits.  Oh,  the  crash  will  come  some 
day.  Until  it  does — let  us  make  the  most  of  it — 
while  it  lasts." 

He  said  the  words  bitterly.  Constance  was 
confirmed  in  her  original  suspicion  of  him  now. 


104  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

Halsey  was  getting  deeper  and  deeper  into  the 
moral  qnagmire.  She  had  seen  his  interest  in 
Mrs.  Noble.  Had  Bella  LeMar  hoped  that  she, 
too,  would  play  will-o'-the-wisp  in  leading  him 
on? 

Over  the  still  half -eaten  supper  she  watched 
Halsey  keenly.  A  thousand  questions  about 
himself,  about  Mrs.  Noble,  rushed  through  her 
mind.  Should  she  be  perfectly  frank? 

"  Are  you — are  you  using  the  company's 
money?  "  she  asked  at  length  pointedly. 

He  had  not  expected  the  question,  and  his 
evident  intention  was  to  deny  it.  But  he  met  her 
eye.  He  tried  to  escape  it,  but  could  not.  What 
was  there  about  this  little  woman  that  had  com 
pelled  his  attention  and  interest  from  the  mo 
ment  he  had  been  introduced? 

Quickly  he  tried  to  reason  it  out  in  his  heart, 
It  was  not  that  she  was  physically  attractive 
to  him.  Mrs.  Noble  was  that.  It  was  not  that 
fascination  which  Bella  aroused,  the  adven 
turess,  the  siren,  the  gorgon.  In  Constance 
there  was  something  different.  She  was  a 
woman  of  the  world,  a  man's  woman.  Then, 
too,  she  was  so  brutally  frank  in  inviting  his 
confidences. 

Over  and  over  he  turned  the  answer  he  had 
intended  to  make.  He  caught  her  eye  again  and 
knew  that  it  was  of  no  use. 


THE  GAMBLERS  105 

"  Yes,"  he  muttered,  as  a  cloud  spread  over 
his  face  at  not  being  able,  as  usual,  to  let  the 
gay  life  put  the  truth  out  of  his  mind.  "  Yes, 
I  have  been  using — their  funds." 

As  if  a  switch  had  been  turned,  the  light 
broke  on  Constance.  She  saw  herself  face  to 
face  with  one  of  the  dark  shadows  in  the  great 
city  of  high  lights. 

11  How?  "  she  asked  simply,  leaning  forward 
over  the  table. 

There  was  no  resisting  her.  Quickly  he  told 
her  all. 

' '  At  first  with  what  little  money  of  my  own  I 
had  I  played.  Then  I  began  to  sign  I  0  TJ's  and 
notes.  Now  I  have  been  taking  blank  stock 
certificates,  some  of  those  held  as  treasury  stock 
in  the  company's  safe.  They  have  never  been 
issued,  so  that  by  writing  in  the  signatures  of 
myself  and  the  other  officers  necessary,  I  have 
been  able  to  use  it  to  pay  off  my  losses  in  gam 
bling." 

As  he  unfolded  to  her  the  plan  which  he  had 
adopted,  Constance  listened  in  amazement. 

11  And  you  know  that  you  are  watched,"  she 
repeated,  changing  the  subject,  and  sensing 
rather  than  seeing  that  Drummond  was  watch 
ing  them  then. 

"  Yes,"  he  continued  freely.  "  The  Interna 
tional  Surety,  in  which  I'm  bonded,  has  a  sort 


106  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

of  secret  service  of  its  own,  I  understand.  It  is 
the  eye  that  is  never  closed,  but  is  screened 
from  the  man  under  bond.  When  you  go  into 
the  Broadway  night  life  too  often,  for  instance, ' ' 
he  pursued,  waving  his  hand  about  at  the  gay 
tables,  ' '  run  around  in  fast  motors  with  faster 
company — well,  they  know  it.  Who  is  watching, 
I  do  not  know.  But  with  me  it  will  be  as  it 
has  been  when  others  came  to  the  end.  Some 
day  they  will  come  to  me,  and  they  are  going 
to  say, '  We  don 't  like  your  conduct.  Where  do 
you  get  this  money  ?  '  They  will  know,  then,  too. 
But  before  that  time  comes  I  want  to  win,  to  be 
in  a  position  to  tell  them  to  go — " 

Halsey  clenched  his  fist.  It  was  evident  that 
he  did  not  intend  to  quit,  no  matter  what  the 
odds  against  him. 

Constance  thought  of  the  silent  figure  of 
Drummond  at  the  other  table — watching,  watch 
ing.  She  felt  sure  that  it  was  to  him  that  the 
Surety  Company  had  turned  over  the  work  of 
shadowing  Halsey.  Day  after  day,  probably, 
the  unobtrusive  detective  had  been  trailing 
Halsey  from  the  moment  he  left  his  apartment 
until  the  time  when  he  returned,  if  he  did  return. 
There  was  nothing  of  his  goings  and  comings 
that  was  not  already  an  open  book  to  them.  Of 
what  use  was  it,  then,  for  Halsey  to  fight  I 


THE  GAMBLERS  107 

It  was  a  situation  such  as  she  delighted  in. 
She  had  made  up  her  mind.  She  would  help 
Haddon  Halsey  to  beat  the  law. 

Already  it  seemed  as  if  he  knew  that  their 
positions  had  been  reversed.  He  had  started  to 
warn  her;  she  now  was  saving  him. 

Yet  even  then  he  showed  the  better  side  of  his 
nature. 

"  There  is  some  one  else,  Mrs.  Dunlap,"  he 
remarked  earnestly, ' '  who  needs  your  help  even 
more  than  I  do. ' ' 

It  had  cost  him  something  to  say  that.  He 
had  not  been  able  to  accept  her  help,  even  under 
false  pretenses.  Eagerly  he  watched  to  see 
whether  jealousy  of  the  other  woman  played  any 
part  with  her. 

' l  I  understand, ' '  she  said  with  a  hasty  glance 
at  her  watch  and  a  covert  look  at  Drummond. 
"  Let  us  go.  If  we  are  to  win  we  must  keep  our 
heads  clear.  I  shall  see  you  to-morrow.'* 

For  hours  during  the  rest  of  the  night  Con 
stance  tossed  fitfully  in  half  sleep,  thinking  over 
the  problem  she  had  assumed. 

How  was  she  to  get  at  the  inside  truth  of  what 
was  going  on  across  the  hall?  That  was  the 
first  question. 

In  her  perplexity,  she  rose  and  looked  out  of 
the  window  at  the  now  lightening  gray  of  the 
courtyard.  There  dangled  the  LeMar  tele- 


108  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

phone  wire,  only  a  few  feet  from  her  own 
window. 

Suddenly  an  idea  flashed  over  her.  In  her 
leisure  she  had  read  much  and  thought  more. 
She  recalled  having  heard  of  a  machine  that  just 
fitted  her  needs. 

As  soon  as  she  was  likely  to  find  places  of 
business  open  Constance  started  out  on  her 
search.  It  was  early  in  the  forenoon  before  she 
returned,  successful.  The  machine  which  she 
had  had  in  mind  proved  to  be  an  oak  box,  per 
haps  eighteen  inches  long,  by  half  the  width, 
and  a  foot  deep.  On  its  face  it  bore  a  little  dial. 
Inside  there  appeared  a  fine  wire  on  a  spool 
which  unwound  gradually  by  clockwork,  and, 
after  passing  through  a  peculiar  small  arrange 
ment,  was  wound  up  on  another  spool.  Flexible 
silk-covered  copper  wires  led  from  the  box. 

Carefully  Constance  reached  across  the  dizzy 
intervening  space,  and  drew  in  the  slack  LeMar 
telephone  wires.  With  every  care  she  cut  into 
them  as  if  she  were  making  an  extension,  and  at 
tached  the  wires  from  the  box. 

Perhaps  half  an  hour  later  the  door  buzzer 
sounded.  Constance  could  scarcely  restrain  her 
surprise  as  Mrs.  Lansing  Noble  stepped  in 
quickly  and  shut  the  door  herself. 


THE  GAMBLERS  109 

"  I  don't  want  her  to  know  I'm  here,"  she 
whispered,  nodding  across  the  hall. 

"  Won't  you  take  off  your  things?  "  asked 
Constance  cordially. 

"  No,  I  can't  stay,"  returned  her  visitor 
nervously,  pausing. 

Constance  wondered  why  she  had  come.  Was 
she,  too,  trying  to  warn  a  newcomer  against  the 
place  ? 

She  said  nothing,  but  now  that  the  effort  had 
heen  made  and  the  little  woman  had  gone 
actually  so  far,  she  felt  the  reaction.  She  sank 
down  into  an  easy  chair  and  rested  her  pretty 
head  on  her  delicately  gloved  hand. 

' '  Oh,  Mrs.  Dunlap, ' '  she  began  convulsively, 
4  *  I  hope  you  will  pardon  an  entire  stranger  for 
breaking  in  on  you  so  informally — but — but  I 
can't — I  can't  help  it.  I  must  tell  some  one." 

Accustomed  as  she  was  now  to  strange  con. 
fidences,  Constance  bent  over  and  patted  thq 
little  hand  of  Mrs.  Noble  comfortingly. 

"  You  seemed  to  take  it  so  coolly,"  went  on 
the  other  woman.  "  For  me  the  glamour,  the 
excitement  are  worse  than  champagne.  But  you 
could  stop,  even  when  you  were  winning.  Oh, 
my  God !  What  am  I  to  do  f  What  will  happen 
when  my  husband  finds  out  what  I  have  done  t  ' ' 

Tearfully,  the  little  woman  poured  out  the 
sordid  story  of  her  fascination  for  the  game,  of 


110  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

her  losses,  of  the  pawning  of  her  jewels  to  pay 
her  losses  and  keep  them  secret,  if  only  for  a  few 
days,  until  that  mythical  time  when  luck  would 
change. 

"  When  I  started,"  she  blurted  out  with  a 
bitter  little  laugh,  "  I  thought  I'd  make  a  little 
pin  money.  That 's  how  I  began — with  that  and 
the  excitement.  And  now  this  is  the  end. ' ' 

She  had  risen  and  was  pacing  the  floor  wildly. 

"  Mrs.  Dunlap,"  she  cried,  pausing  before 
Constance,  "  to-day  I  am  nothing  more  nor  less 
than  a  '  capper,'  as  they  call  it,  for  a  gambling 
resort. ' ' 

She  was  almost  hysterical.  The  contrast  with 
the  gay,  respectable,  prosperous-looking  woman 
at  Bella's  was  appalling.  Constance  realized 
to  the  full  what  were  the  tragedies  that  were 
enacted  elsewhere. 

As  she  looked  at  the  despairing  woman,  she 
could  reconstruct  the  terrible  situation.  Culti 
vated,  well-bred,  fashionably  gowned,  a  woman 
like  Mrs.  Noble  served  admirably  the  purpose 
of  luring  men  on.  If  there  had  been  only  women 
or  only  men  involved,  it  perhaps  would  not  have 
been  so  bad.  But  there  were  both.  Constance 
saw  that  men  were  wanted,  men  who  could 
afford  to  lose  not  hundreds,  but  thousands,  men 
who  are  always  the  heaviest  players.  And  so 
Mrs.  Noble  and  other  unfortunate  women  no 


THE  GAMBLEES  111 

doubt  were  sent  out  on  Broadway  to  the  cafes 
and  restaurants,  sent  out  even  among  those  of 
their  own  social  circle,  always  to  lure  men  on,  to 
involve  themselves  more  and  more  in  the  web 
into  which  they  had  flown.  Bella  had  hoped 
even  to  use  Constance! 

Mrs.  Noble  had  paused  again.  There  was 
evident  sincerity  in  her  as  she  looked  deeply  into 
the  eyes  of  Constance. 

Nothing  but  desperation  could  have  wrung 
her  inmost  secrets  from  her  to  another  woman. 

"  I  saw  them  trying  to  throw  you  together 
with  Haddon  Halsey,"  she  said,  almost  trag 
ically.  "  It  was  I  who  introduced  Haddon  to 
them.  I  was  to  get  a  percentage  of  his  losses 
to  pay  off  my  own — but ' ' — her  feelings  seemed 
to  overcome  her  and  wildly,  desperately,  she 
added — "  but  I  can't — I  can't  I — I  must 
rescue  him — I  must. ' ' 

It  was  a  strange  situation.  Constance 
reasoned  it  out  quickly.  What  a  wreck  of  life 
these  two  were  making!  Not  only  they  were 
involved,  but  others  who  as  yet  knew  nothing, 
Mrs.  Noble's  husband,  the  family  of  Halsey. 
She  must  help. 

' '  Mrs.  Noble, ' '  said  Constance  calmly,  ' '  can 
you  trust  me  f  ' ' 

She  shot  a  quick  glance  at  Constance. 
"  Yes,"  she  murmured. 


112  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

"  Then  to-night  visit  Mrs.  LeMar  as  though 
nothing  had  happened.  Meanwhile  I  will  have 
thought  out  a  plan. ' ' 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  Constance 
saw  Halsey  again,  this  time  in  his  office,  where 
he  had  been  waiting  impatiently  for  some  word 
from  her.  The  relief  at  seeing  her  showed  only 
too  plainly  on  his  face. 

"  This  inaction  is  killing  me,"  he  remarked 
huskily.  "  Has  anything  happened  to-day?  ' 

She  said  nothing  about  the  visit  of  Mrs. 
Noble.  Perhaps  it  was  better  that  each  should 
not  know  yet  that  the  other  was  worried. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  "  much  has  happened. 
I  cannot  tell  you  now.  But  to-night  let  us  all 
go  again  as  though  nothing  had  occurred." 

"  They  have  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  in 
stock  certificates  already  which  I  have  given 
them, ' '  he  remarked  anxiously. 

"  Some  way — any  way,  you  must  get  them 
back  for  a  time.  Let  me  see  some  of  the 
blanks. ' ' 

Halsey  shut  the  door.  From  a  secret  drawer 
of  his  desk  he  drew  a  package  of  beautifully 
engraved  paper. 

Constance  looked  at  it  a  moment.  Then 
with  a  fountain  pen,  across  the  front  of  each, 
phe  made  a  few  marks.  Halsey  looked  on 


THE  GAMBLERS  113 

eagerly.  As  she  handed  them  back  to  him, 
not  a  sign  showed  on  any  part  of  them. 

"  You  must  tell  them  that  there  is  some 
thing  wrong  with  the  others,  that  you  will  give 
them  other  certificates  of  your  own  about 
which  there  is  no  question.  Tell  them  any 
thing  to  get  them  back.  Here — take  this  other 
fountain  pen,  sign  the  new  certificates  with  that, 
in  their  presence  so  that  they  will  suspect 
nothing.  To-night  I  shall  expect  you  to  play 
up  to  the  limit,  to  play  into  Mrs.  Noble 's  hand 
and  assume  her  losses,  too.  I  shall  meet  you 
there  at  nine." 

Constance  had  laid  her  plans  quickly.  That 
night  she  waited  in  her  own  apartment  until 
she  heard  Halsey  enter  across  the  hall.  She 
had  determined  to  give  him  plenty  of  time  to 
obtain  the  old  forged  certificates  and  sub 
stitute  for  them  the  new  forgeries. 

Perhaps  half  an  hour  later  she  heard  Mrs. 
Noble  enter.  As  Constance  followed  her  in, 
the  effusive  greeting  of  Bella  LeMar  showed 
that  as  yet  she  suspected  nothing.  A  quick 
glance  at  Halsey  brought  an  answering  nod  and 
an  unconscious  motion  toward  his  pocket  where 
he  had  stuffed  the  old  certificates  carelessly. 

A  moment  later  they  had  plunged  into  the 
game.  The  play  that  night  was  spirited. 
Soon  the  limit  was  the  roof. 


114  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

From  the  start  things  seemed  to  run  against 
Halsey  and  Mrs.  Noble  even  worse  than  be 
fore.  At  the  same  time  fortune  seemed  to 
favor  Constance.  Again  and  again  she  won, 
until  even  Watson  seemed  to  think  there  was 
something  uncanny  about  it. 

"  Beginner's  luck,"  remarked  Bella  with  a 
forced  laugh. 

Still  Constance  won,  not  much,  but  steadily, 
though  not  enough  to  offset  the  larger  win 
nings  of  Watson. 

Fast  and  furious  became  the  play  and  as 
steadily  did  it  go  against  Halsey.  Mrs.  Noble 
retired,  scarcely  repressing  the  tears.  Con 
stance  dropped  out.  Only  Halsey  and  Watson 
remained,  fighting  as  if  it  were  a  duel  to  the 
death. 

"  Please  stop,  Halsey,"  pleaded  Mrs.  Noble. 
"  What  is  the  use  of  tempting  fortune!  ' 

An  insane  half  light  seemed  to  glow  in  his 
eyes  as,  with  a  quick  glance  at  Constance  and 
a  covert  nod  of  approval  from  her,  he  forced 
a  smile  and  playfully  laid  his  finger  on  Mrs. 
Noble's  lips. 

"  Double  or  quits,  Watson,"  he  cried.  "  Ke- 
turn  the  new  certificates  or  take  others  for 
twice  the  amount.  Are  you  game?  ' 

"I'm  on,"  agreed  Watson  coolly. 


THE  GAMBLERS  115 

Halsey  laid  down  his  hand  in  triumph. 
There  were  four  kings. 

"  I  win,"  ground  out  Watson  viciously,  as 
he  tossed  down  four  aces. 

Constance  was  on  her  feet  in  a  moment. 

"  You  are  a  lot  of  cheats  and  swindlers," 
she  cried,  seizing  the  cards  before  any  one 
could  interfere. 

Deftly  she  laid  out  the  four  aces  beside  the 
four  deuces,  the  four  kings  beside  the  four 
queens.  It  was  done  so  quickly  that  even 
Halsey,  in  his  amazement,  could  find  nothing 
to  say.  Mrs.  Noble  paled  and  was  speechless. 
As  for  Bella  and  Watson,  nothing  could  have 
aroused  them  more  than  the  open  charge  that 
they  were  using  false  devices. 

Yet  never  for  a  moment  did  Watson  lose  his 
iron  cynicism. 

"  Prove  it,"  he  demanded.  "  As  for  Mr. 
Halsey,  he  may  pay  or  I'll  show  the  stock  I 
already  hold  to  the  proper  people." 

Constance  was  facing  Watson,  as  calm  as 
he. 

"  Show  it,"  she  said  quietly. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door. 

"  Don't  let  any  one  in,"  ordered  Bella  of 
the  maid,  who  had  already  opened  the  door. 

A  man's  foot  had  been  inserted  into  the 
opening.  "  What's  the  matter,  Chloe?  " 


116  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

"  Good  Lawd,  Mis'  Bella — we  done  been 
raided!  "  burst  out  the  maid  as  the  door  flew 
wholly  open. 

Halsey  staggered  back.  * '  A  detective !  "  he 
exclaimed. 

"  Oh,  what  shall  I  do?  "  wailed  Mrs.  Noble. 
* '  My  husband  will  never  forgive  me  if  this  be 
comes  known." 

Bella  was  as  calm  as  a  good  player  with  a 
royal  straight  flush. 

"  I've  caught  you  at  last,"  fairly  hissed 
Drummond.  "  And  you,  too,  Mrs.  Dunlap. 
Watson,  I  overheard  something  about  some 
stock.  Let  me  see  it.  I  think  it  will  interest 
International  Surety  as  well  as  Exporters  and 
Manufacturers. ' ' 

Through  the  still  open  door  Constance  had 
darted  across  the  hall  to  her  apartment. 

11  Not  so  fast,"  cried  Drummond.  "  You 
can't  escape.  The  front  door  is  guarded.  You 
can't  get  out." 

She  was  gone,  but  a  moment  later  emerged 
from  the  darkness  of  ner  rooms,  carrying  the 
oak  box. 

As  she  set  it  down  on  the  card  table,  no  one 
said  a  word.  Deliberately  she  opened  the  box, 
disclosing  two  spools  of  wire  inside.  To  the 
machine  she  attached  several  head  pieces  such 
as  a  telephone  operator  wears.  She  turned  a 


THE  GAMBLERS  117 

switch  and  the  wire  began  to  unroll  from  one 
spool  and  wind  up  on  the  other  again. 

A  voice,  or  rather  voices,  seemed  to  come 
from  the  box  itself.    It  was  uncanny. 

* '  Hello,  is  this  Mrs.  LeMar  ?  ' '  came  from  it. 

' '  What  is  it  I  "  whispered  Halsey,  as  if  fear 
ful  of  being  overheard. 

"  A  telegraphone, "  replied  Constance,  shut 
ting  it  off  for  a  moment. 

"  A  telegraphone?     What  is  that?  " 

"  A  machine  for  registering  telephone  con 
versations,  dictation,  anything  of  the  sort  you 
wish.  It  was  invented  by  Valdemar  Poulsen, 
the  Danish  Edison.  This  is  one  of  his  new 
wire  machines.  The  record  is  made  by  a  new 
process,  localized  charges  of  magnetism  on  this 
wire.  It  is  as  permanent  as  the  wire  itself. 
There  is  only  one  thing  that  can  destroy  them — 
rubbing  over  the  wire  with  this  magnet. 
Listen. ' ' 

She  had  started  the  machine  again.  Whose 
voice  was  it  calling  Bella  ?  Constance  was  look 
ing  fixedly  at  Drummond.  He  shifted  uneasily. 

"  How  much  is  he  in  for  now?  "  pursued  the 
voice. 

Halsey  gasped.  It  was  Drummond's  own 
voice. 

11  Two  hundred  and  fifty  shares,"  replied 
Bella 's  voice. 


118  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

"  Good.  Keep  at  him.  Don't  lose  him.  To 
night  I'll  drop  in." 

"  And  your  client  will  make  good?  "  she 
anxiously. 

"  Absolutely.  We  will  pay  five  thousand 
dollars  for  the  evidence  that  will  convict  him. ' ' 

Constance 's  little  audience  was  stunned.  But 
she  did  not  let  the  telegraphone  pause.  Skip 
ping  some  unimportant  calls,  she  began  again. 

This  was  a  call  from  Bella  to  Watson. 

"  Ross,  that  fellow  Drummond  called  up  to 
day." 

"  Yes?  " 

"  He  is  going  to  pull  it  off  to-night.  His 
client  will  make  good — five  thousand  if  they 
catch  Halsey  with  the  goods.  How  about 
it?" 

"  Pretty  soft — eh,  Bella?  "  came  back  from 
Watson. 

*  *  My  God !  it 's  a  plant !  ' '  exclaimed  Halsey, 
staggering  and  dropping  heavily  into  a  chair. 
' '  I  'm  ruined.  There  is  no  way  out !  ' 

"  Wait,"  interrupted  Constance.  "  Here's 
another  call.  It  may  serve  to  explain  why  luck 
was  with  me  to-night.  I  came  prepared. ' ' 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  LeMar,"  came  another  strange 
voice  from  the  machine.  "  We'd  do  anything 
for  Mr.  Watson.  What  is  it — a  pack  of 
strippers?  " 


THE  GAMBLERS 

"  Yes.  The  aces  stripped  from  the  ends,  thf, 
kings  from  the  sides." 

The  group  looked  eagerly  at  Constance. 

"  From  the  maker  of  fake  gambling  ap» 
paratus,  I  find, ' '  she  explained,  shutting  off  the 
machine,  ' l  They  were  ordering  from  him  cards 
cut  or  trimmed  so  that  certain  ones  could  be 
readily  drawn  from  the  deck,  or  '  stripped.' 
Small  wedge-shaped  strips  are  trimmed  off  the 
edges  of  all  the  other  cards,  leaving  the  aces, 
say,  projecting  just  the  most  minute  fraction  of 
an  inch  beyond  the  others.  Everything  is  done 
carefully.  The  rounded  edges  at  the  corners 
are  recut  to  look  right.  When  the  cards  are 
shuffled  the  aces  protrude  a  trifle  over  the  edges 
of  the  other  cards.  It  is  a  simple  matter  for  the 
dealer  to  draw  or  strip  out  as  many  aces  as  he 
wants,  stack  them  on  the  bottom  of  the  pack  as 
he  shuffles  the  cards,  and  draw  them  from  the 
bottom  whenever  he  wants  them.  Strippers  are 
one  of  the  newest  things  in  swindling.  Marked 
cards  are  out  of  date.  But  some  decks  have  the 
aces  stripped  from  the  ends,  the  kings  from 
the  sides.  With  this  pack,  as  you  can  see,  a 
sucker  can  be  dealt  out  the  kings,  while  the 
house  player  gets  the  aces. ' ' 

Dmrnmond  brazened  it  out.  With  a  muttered 
oath  he  turned  to  Watson  again.  ' '  What  rot  is. 
this?  The  stock,  Watson,"  fce  repeated* 


120  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

"  Where  is  that  stock  I  heard  them  talking 
about?  " 

Mrs.  Noble,  forgetting  all  now  but  Halsey, 
paled.  Bella  LeMar  was  fumbling  at  her  gold 
mesh  bag.  She  gave  a  sudden,  suppressed  little 
scream. 

"  Look!  "  she  cried.  "  They  are  blank — 
those  stock  certificates  he  gave  me." 

Drummond  seized  them  roughly  from  her 
hands. 

Where  the  signatures  should  have  been  there 
was  nothing  at  all ! 

Across  the  face  of  the  stock  were  the  words 
in  deep  black,  "  SAMPLE  CERTIFICATE," 
written  in  an  angular,  feminine  hand. 

What  did  it  mean?  Halsey  was  as  amazed  as 
any  of  them.  Mechanically  he  turned  to  Con 
stance. 

11  I  didn't  say  anything  last  night,"  she  re 
marked  incisively.  "  But  I  had  my  suspicions 
from  the  first.  I  always  look  out  for  the  purry 
kind  of  '  my  dear  '  woman.  They  have  claws. 
Last  night  I  watched.  To-day  I  learned — 
learned  that  you,  Mr.  Drummond,  were  nothing 
but  a  blackmailer,  using  these  gamblers  to  do 
your  dirty  work.  Haddon,  they  would  have 
thrown  you  out  like  a  squeezed  lemon  as  soon  as 
the  money  you  had  was  gone.  They  would  have 
taken  the  bribe  that  Drummond  offered  for  the 


THE  GAMBLERS  121 

stock — and  they  would  have  left  you  nothing  but 
jail.  I  learned  all  that  over  the  telegraphone. 
I  learned  their  methods  and,  knowing  them,  even 
I  could  not  be  prevented  from  winning  to 
night" 

Halsey  moved  as  if  to  speak.  "  But,"  he 
asked  eagerly, ' '  the  stock  certificates — what  of 
them?  " 

"  The  stock?  "  she  answered  with  delibera 
tion.  "  Did  you  ever  hear  that  writing  in 
quinoline  will  appear  blue,  but  will  soon  fade 
away,  while  other  writing  in  silver  nitrate  and 
ammonia,  invisible  at  first,  after  a  few  hours 
appears  black?  You  wrote  on  those  certificates 
in  sympathetic  ink  that  fades,  I  in  ink  that 
comes  up  soon." 

Mrs.  Noble  was  crying  softly  to  herself. 
They  still  had  her  notes  for  thousands. 

Halsey  saw  her.  Instantly  he  forgot  his  own 
case.  What  was  to  be  done  about  her?  He 
telegraphed  a  mute  appeal  to  Constance,  forget 
ful  of  himself  now.  Constance  was  fingering  the 
switch  of  the  telegraphone. 

"  Drummond,"  remarked  Constance  signif 
icantly,  as  though  other  secrets  might  still  be 
contained  in  the  marvelous  little  mechanical 
detective,  "  Drummond,  don't  you  think,  for  the 
sake  of  your  own  reputation  as  a  detective,  it 
might  be  as  well  to  keep  this  thing  quiet?  " 


122  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

For  a  moment  the  detective  gripped  his  wrath 
and  seemed  to  consider  the  damaging  record  of 
his  conversation  with  Bella  LeMar. 

*  *  Perhaps, ' '  he  agreed  sullenly. 

Constance  reached  into  her  chatelaine.  From 
it  she  drew  an  ordinary  magnet,  and  slowly 
pulled  off  the  armature. 

"  If  I  run  this  over  the  wires, "  she  hinted, 
holding  it  near  the  spools,  "  the  record  will  be 
wiped  out"  She  paused  impressively.  "  Let 
me  have  those  I  0  U  's  of  Mrs.  Noble 's.  By  the 
way,  you  might  as  well  give  me  that  blank  stock, 
too.  There  is  no  use  in  that,  now." 

As  she  laid  the  papers  in  a  pile  on  the  table 
before  her  she  added  the  old  forged  certificates 
from  Halsey's  pocket.  There  it  lay,  the  in 
criminating,  ruining  evidence. 

Deliberately  she  passed  the  magnet  over  the 
thin  steel  wire,  wiping  out  what  it  had  recorded, 
as  if  the  recording  angel  were  blotting  out  from 
the  book  of  life. 

"  Try  it,  Drummond,"  she  cried,  dropping 
on  her  knees  before  the  open  fireplace.  "  You 
will  find  the  wire  a  blank. ' ' 

There  was  a  hot,  sudden  blaze  as  the  pile  of 
papers  from  the  table  flared  up. 

"  There,"  she  exclaimed.  "  These  gambling 
debts  were  not  even  debts  of  honor.  If  you  will 
call  a  cab,  Haddon,  I  have  reserved  a  table  at 


THE  GAMBLERS  123 

Jack's  for  you  and  Mrs.  Noble.  It  is  a  fare 
well.  Drummond  will  not  occupy  his  place  in 
the  corner  to-night.  But — after  it — you  are  to 
forget — both  of  you — forever.  You  under 
stand?  " 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   BAVESDEOPPEKS 

*  I  SUPPOSE  you  have  heard  something  about 
the  troubles  of  the  Motor  Trust?  The  other 
directors,  you  know,  are  trying  to  force  me 
out." 

Rodman  Brainard,  president  of  the  big  Motor 
Corporation,  searched  the  magnetic  depths  of 
the  big  brown  eyes  of  the  woman  beside  his 
desk.  Talking  to  Constance  Dunlap  was  not  like 
talking  to  other  women  he  had  known,  either 
socially  or  in  business. 

'  *  A  friend  of  yours,  and  of  mine, ' '  he  added 
frankly,  * '  has  told  me  enough  about  you  to  con 
vince  me  that  you  are  more  than  an  amateur  at 
getting  people  out  of  tight  places.  I  asked  you 
to  call  because  I  think  you  can  help  me. ' ' 

There  was  a  directness  about  Brainard  which 
Constance  liked. 

"  It's  very  kind  of  you  to  place  such  con 
fidence  in  me — on  such  short  acquaintance, ' '  she 
returned  pointedly,  searching  his  face. 

Brainard  laughed. 

"  I  don't  need  to  tell  you,  Mrs.  Dunlap,  that 
124 


THE  EAVESDROPPERS  125 

anything  I  have  said  so  far  is  an  open  secret  in 
Wall  Street.  They  have  threatened  to  drag  in 
the  Sherman  law,  and  in  the  reorganization  that 
will  follow  the  investigation,  they  plan  to  elim 
inate  Rodman  Brainard — perhaps  set  in  motion 
the  criminal  clauses  of  the  law.  It's  nothing, 
Mrs.  Dunlap,  but  a  downright  hypocritical  pose. 
They  reverse  the  usual  process.  It  is  doing 
good  that  evil  may  result. ' ' 

He  watched  her  face  intently.  Something  in 
her  expression  seemed  to  please  him.  "  By 
George,"  he  thought  to  himself, "  this  is  a  man's 
woman.  You  can  talk  to  her." 

Brainard,  accustomed  to  quick  decisions, 
added  aloud,  "  Just  now  they  are  using  Mrs. 
Brainard  as  a  catspaw.  They  are  spreading  that 
scandal  about  my  acquaintance  with  Blanche 
Leblanc,  the  actress.  You  have  seen  her?  A 
stunning  woman — wonderful.  But  I  long  ago 
saw  that  such  a  friendship  could  lead  to  nothing 
but  ruin."  He  met  Constance's  eye  squarely. 
There  was  nothing  of  the  adventuress  in  it  as 
there  had  been  in  Blanche  Leblanc.  ' '  And, ' '  he 
finished,  almost  biting  off  the  words,  "  I  decided 
to  cut  it  out." 

"  How  does  Blanche  Leblanc  figure  in  the 
Motor  Trust  trouble!  "  asked  Constance  keenly. 

"  They  had  been  shadowing  me  a  long  time 
before  I  knew  it,  ferreting  back  into  my  past. 


126  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

Yesterday  I  learned  that  some  one  had  broken 
into  Miss  Leblanc's  apartments  and  had  stolen 
a  package  of  letters  which  I  wrote  to  her.  It 
can 't  hurt  her.  People  expect  that  sort  of  thing 
of  an  actress.  But  it  can  hurt  the  president  of 
the  Motor  Trust — just  at  present." 

"  Who  has  been  doing  the  shadowing?  " 

"  Worthington,  the  treasurer,  is  the  guiding 
spirit  of  the  '  insurgents  '  as  they  call  them 
selves — it  sounds  popular,  like  reform.  I  un 
derstand  they  have  had  a  detective  named 
Drummond  working  for  them." 

Constance  raised  her  eyes  quickly  at  the 
name.  Was  Drummond  always  to  cross  her 
trail? 

"  This  story  of  the  letters,"  he  went  on, 
* (  puts  on  the  finishing  touch.  They  have  me  all 
right  on  that.  I  can  tell  by  the  way  that  Sybil — 
er,  Mrs.  Brainard — acts,  that  she  has  read  and 
reread  those  letters.  But,  by  God,"  he  con 
cluded,  bringing  down  his  fist  on  the  desk,  "  I 
shall  fight  to  the  end,  and  when  I  go  down," — 
he  emphasized  each  word  with  an  additional 
blow, — "  the  crash  will  bring  down  the  whole 
damned  structure  on  their  own  heads,  too. ' ' 

He  was  too  earnest  even  to  apologize  to  her. 
Constance  studied  the  grim  determination  in  the 
man's  face.  He  was  not  one  of  those  destined 
to  fail 


THE  EAVESDROPPERS  127 

"  All  is  not  lost  that  is  in  peril,  Mr. 
Brainard,"  she  remarked  quietly.  "  That's 
one  of  the  maxims  of  your  own  Wall  Street.'* 

"  What  would  you  do?  "  he  asked.  It  was 
not  an  appeal ;  rather  it  was  an  invitation. 

"  I  can't  say,  yet.  Let  me  come  into  the 
office  of  the  Trust.  Can't  I  be  your  private 
secretary?  ' 

11  Consider  yourself  engaged.  Name  your 
figure — after  it  is  over.  My  record  on  the 
Streets  speaks  for  how  I  stand  by  those  who 
stand  by  me.  But  I  hate  a  quitter." 

"  So  do  I,"  exclaimed  Constance,  rising  and 
giving  him  her  hand  in  a  straight-arm  shake 
that  made  Brainard  straighten  himself  and 
look  down  into  her  face  with  unconcealed 
admiration. 

The  next  morning  Constance  became  private 
secretary  to  the  president  of  the  Motor  Trust. 

11  You  will  be  '  Miss  '  Dunlap,"  remarked 
Brainard.  "  It  sounds  more  plausible." 

Quietly  he  arranged  her  duties  so  that  she 
would  seem  to  be  very  busy  without  having 
anything  which  really  interfered  with  the  pur 
pose  of  her  presence. 

She  had  been  thinking  rapidly.  Late  in  the 
forenoon  she  reached  a  decision.  A  little 
errand  uptown  kept  her  longer  than  she  ex- 


128  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

pected,  but  by  the  late  afternoon  she  was  beck 
again  at  her  desk,  on  which  rested  a  small 
package  which  had  been  delivered  by  messenger 
for  her. 

"  J  beg  you  won't  think  as  badly  of  me  as  it 
seems  on  the  surface,  Miss  Dunlap,"  remarked 
Brainard,  stopping  beside  her  desk. 

"  I  don't  think  badly  of  you,"  she  answered 
in  a  low  voice.  "  You  are  not  the  only  man 
who  has  been  caught  with  a  crowd  of  crooks 
who  plan  to  leave  him  holding  the  bag. ' ' 

"  Oh,  it  isn't  that,"  he  hastened,  "  I  mean 
this  Blanche  Leblanc  affair.  May  I  be  frank 
with  you?  " 

It  was  not  the  first  time  Constance  had  been 
made  a  confidante  of  the  troubles  of  the  heart, 
and  yet  there  was  something  fascinating  about 
having  a  man  like  Brainard  consider  her  worthy 
of  being  trusted  with  what  meant  so  much  to 
him. 

"I'm  not  altogether  to  blame,"  he  went  on 
slowly.  "  The  estrangement  between  my  wife 
and  myself  came  long  before  that  little  affair. 
It  began  over — well — over  what  they  call  a 
serious  difference  in  temperament.  You  know  a 
man — an  ambitious  man — needs  a  partner,  a 
woman  who  can  use  the  social  position  that 
money  gives  not  alone  for  pleasure  but  as  a 
means  of  advancing  the  partnership.  I  never 


THE  EAVESDROPPERS  129 

had  that.  The  more  I  advanced,  the  more  I 
found  her  becoming  a  butterfly — and  not  as 
attractive  as  the  other  butterflies  either.  She 
went  one  way— I,  another.  Oh  well — what's  the 
use?  I  wont  too  far — the  wrong  way.  I  must 
pay.  Only  let  me  save  what  I  can  from  the 
wreck. ' ' 

It  was  not  Constance,  the  woman,  to  whom 
he  was  talking.  It  was  Constance,  the  secretary. 
Yet  it  was  the  woman,  not  the  secretary,  who 
listened. 

Brainard  stopped  again  beside  her  desk. 

"  All  that  is  neither  here  nor  there,"  he  re 
marked,  forcing  a  change  in  his  manner.  "  I 
am  in  for  it.  Now,  the  question  is — what  are 
we  going  to  do  about  it?  " 

Constance  had  unwrapped  the  package  on  her 
desk,  disclosing  an  oblong  box. 

"  What's  that?  "he  asked  curiously. 

11  Mr.  Brainard,"  she  answered  tapping  the 
box,  "  there's  no  limit  to  the  use  of  this  little 
machine  for  our  purposes.  We  can  get  at  their 
most  vital  secrets  with  it.  We  can  discover 
every  plan  which  they  have  against  us.  We  may 
even  learn  the  hiding  place  of  those  letters. 
Why,  there  is  no  limit.  This  is  one  of  those 
new  microphone  detectives." 

' '  A  microphone  ?  "  he  repeated  as  he  opened 
the  box,  looked  sharply  at  the  two  black  little 


130  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

storage  batteries  inside,  the  coil  of  silk-covered 
wire,  a  little  black  rubber  receiver  and  a  cnrious 
black  disc  whose  face  was  pierced  by  a  circular 
row  of  holes. 

"  Yes.  You  must  have  heard  of  them.  You 
hide  that  transmitter  behind  a  picture  or  under 
a  table  or  desk.  Then  you  run  the  wire  out  of 
the  room  and  by  listening  in  the  receiver  you 
can  hear  everything!  " 

"  But  that  is  what  detectives  use " 

"  Well!  "  she  interrupted  coolly,  "  what  of 
it !  If  it  is  good  for  them,  is  it  not  just  as  good 
for  us?  " 

*  *  Better !  "  he  exclaimed.  ' '  By  George,  you 
are  the  goods." 

It  was  late  before  Constance  had  a  chance 
to  do  anything  with  the  microphone.  It  seemed 
as  if  Worthington  were  staying,  perversely, 
later  than  usual.  At  last,  however,  he  left  with 
a  curt  nod  to  her. 

The  moment  the  door  was  closed  she  stopped 
the  desultory  clicking  of  her  typewriter  with 
which  she  had  been  toying  in  the  appearance 
of  being  busy.  With  Brainard  she  entered  the 
board  room  where  she  had  noticed  Worthington 
and  Sheppard  often  during  the  day. 

It  was,  without  exaggeration,  one  of  the  most 
plainly  furnished  rooms  she  had  ever  seen.  A 


THE  EAVESDROPPERS  131 

long  mahogany  table  with  eight  large  mahogany 
chairs,  a  half  inch  pile  of  velvety  rug  on  the 
floor  and  a  huge  chandelier  in  the  middle  of 
the  ceiling  constituted  the  furniture.  Not  a 
picture,  not  a  cabinet  or  filing  case  broke  the 
blankness  of  the  brown  painted  walls. 

For  a  moment  she  stopped  to  consider. 
Brainard  waited  and  watched  her  narrowly. 

"  There  isn't  a  place  to  put  this  transmitter 
except  up  above  that  chandelier,"  she  said  at 
length. 

He  gave  her  his  hand  as  she  stepped  on  a 
chair  and  then  on  the  table.  There  was  a 
glimpse  of  a  trim  ankle.  The  warmth  and  soft 
ness  of  her  touch  caused  him  to  hold  her  hand 
just  a  moment  longer  than  was  absolutely 
necessary.  A  moment  later  he  was  standing  on 
the  table  beside  her. 

"  This  is  the  place,  all  right,"  she  said,  look 
ing  at  the  thick  scum  of  dust  on  the  top  of  the 
reflector. 

Quickly  she  placed  the  little  black  disc  close 
to  the  center  on  the  top  of  the  reflector.  "  Can 
you  see  that  from  the  floor?  "  she  asked. 

* '  No, ' '  he  answered,  walking  about  the  room, 
"  not  a  sign  of  it." 

"  I'll  sit  here,"  she  said  in  just  a  tremor  of 
excitement  over  the  adventure,  "  and  listen 
while  you  talk  in  the  board  room." 


132  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

Brainard  entered.  It  seemed  ridiculous  for 
him  to  talk  to  himself. 

11  If  the  microphone  works,"  he  said  at 
length,  "  rap  on  the  desk  twice."  Then  he 
added,  half  laughing  to  himself,  "  If  it  doesn't, 
rap  once — Constance." 

A  single  rap  came  in  answer. 

"  If  you  couldn't  hear,"  he  smiled  entering 
her  office,  "  why  did  you  rap  once!  " 

"  It  didn't  work  smoothly  on  that  last 
word. ' ' 

"What— Constance?  " 

He  thought  there  was  a  subtle  change  in 
their  relations  since  the  microphone  incident. 
At  any  rate  she  was  not  angry.  Were  they  not 
partners  ? 

*  *  I  think  it  will  be  better  if  I  turn  that  micro 
phone  around,"  she  remarked.  "  I  placed  it 
face  downwards.  Let  me  change  it." 

Again  he  helped  her  as  she  jumped  up  on  the 
board  room  table.  This  time  his  hand  lingered 
a  little  longer  in  hers  and  she  did  not  withdraw 
it  so  soon.  When  she  did  there  was  a  quick 
twinkle  in  her  eyes  as  she  straightened  the  mi 
crophone  and  offered  her  hand  to  him  again. 

"  Jump!  "  he  said,  as  if  daring  her. 

A  moment  she  paused.  "  I  never  could  take 
a  dare, ' '  she  answered. 

She  leaped  lightly  to  the  floor.     For  just  a 


THE  EAVESDEOPPERS  133 

moment  she  seemed  about  to  lose  her  balance. 
Then  she  felt  an  arm  steadying  her.  He  had 
caught  her  and  for  an  instant  their  eyes  met. 

"  Well,  Rodman — I  scarcely  thought  it  was  as 
brazen  as  this !  ' 

They  turned  in  surprise. 

Mrs.  Brainard  was  standing  in  the  door 
way. 

She  was  a  petite  blonde  little  woman  of  the 
deceptive  age  which  the  beauty  parlors  convey 
to  thousands  of  their  assiduous  patrons. 

For  a  moment  she  looked  coldly  from  one  to 
the  other. 

"  To  what  am  I  indebted  for  the  pleasure 
of  this  unexpected  visit,  Sybil?  '  asked 
Brainard  with  sarcastic  emphasis.  "  I  shall 
finish  those  letters  to-morrow,  Miss  Dunlap. 
You  need  not  wait  for  them. '  ' 

He  held  the  door  to  his  own  office  open  for 
Mrs.  Brainard. 

•  Sybil  Brainard  shot  a  quick  glance  at 
Constance.  "  Well,  young  lady,'*  she  said 
haughtily,  * '  do  you  realize  what  you  are  doing 
and  with  whom  you  are?  " 

"  It  isn't  necessary,  Sybil,  to  bother  about 
Miss  Dunlap.  The  lights  were  out  of  order  and 
I  found  Miss  Dunlap  standing  on  the  table  try 
ing  to  fix  them.  You  came  just  in  time  to  see 
her  jump  down.  By  the  way,  Worthington 


134  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

seems  to  be  another  who  works  late.    He  left 
only  a  few  minutes  ago. ' ' 

Constance  passed  a  restless  night.  To  have 
got  wrong  at  the  very  start  worried  her.  Over 
and  over  she  thought  of  what  had  happened. 
And  always  she  came  back  to  one  question. 
What  had  Brainard  meant  by  that  reference 
to  Worthington? 

He  came  in  late  the  next  day,  however.  Still, 
there  was  no  change  in  his  manner  as  he  greeted 
her.  The  incident  had  not  affected  him,  as  it 
had  her.  Neither  of  them  said  anything  about  it. 

A  young  man  had  been  waiting  to  see 
Brainard  and  as  he  entered  he  asked  him  in. 

Just  then  Sheppard  walked  casually  through 
the  reception  room  and  into  the  board  room. 

Constance  quickly  closed  her  door.  She  heard 
the  young  man  leave  Brainard  'a  office  but  she 
was  too  engrossed  to  pay  attention  to  anything 
but  the  voices  that  were  coming  through  the 
microphone.  She  was  writing  feverishly  what 
she  heard. 

"  Yes,  Sheppard,  I  saw  her  again  last  night." 

"  Where?  " 

' '  She  was  to  meet  me  here,  but  he  stayed  later 
than  usual  with  that  new  secretary  of  his.  So 
I  cut  out  and  met  her  at  the  street  entrance." 

"And!" 


THE  EAVESDROPPERS  135 

*'  I  told  her  of  the  new  secretary.  She  did 
jttst  what  I  wanted — came  up  here — and,  say 
Sheppard — what  do  you  think?  They  were  in 
this  room  and  he  had  his  arms  about  her!  " 

"  The  letters  are  all  right,  are  they?  How 
much  did  you  have  to  pay  the  Leblanc  girlf  " 

"  Twenty  thousand.  That's  all  charged  up 
against  the  pool.  Say,  Leblanc  is — well — give 
you  my  word,  Sheppard — I  can  hardly  blame 
Brainard  after  all. ' '  - 

"  You  are  the  last  word  in  woman  haters, 
Lee." 

Both  men  laughed. 

"And  the  letters!" 

1 1  Don 't  worry.  They  are  where  they  '11  do  the 
most  good.  Sybil  has  them  herself.  Now,  what 
have  you  to  report?  You  saw  the  district  at 
torney?  " 

"  Yes.  He  is  ready  to  promise  us  all  im 
munity  if  we  will  go  on  the  stand  for  the  state. 
The  criminal  business  will  come  later.  Only, 
you  have  to  play  him  carefully.  He's  on  the 
level.  A  breath  of  what  we  really  want  and  it 
will  be  all  off." 

11  Then  we'll  have  to  hold  the  stock  up,  as 
though  nothing  was  going  to  happen. ' ' 

They  had  left  the  board  room. 

Constance  hurried  into  Brainard's  office.    He 

was  sunk  deep  in  his  chair  reading  some  papers. 

10 


136  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

"  What's  the  matter?  "  she  asked. 
"  She  has  entered  a  suit  for  divorce.    That 
young  man  was  a  process  server. " 
"Yes." 
' '  You  are  named  as  co-respondent  along  with 

Blanche  Leblanc." 
n  j?  » 

11  Yes.  It  must  have  been  an  afterthought. 
Everything  is  going — fortune,  reputation — even 
your  friendship,  now,  Constance — " 

"  Going?    Not  yet." 

She  read  hastily  what  she  had  overheard. 

"  Devil  take  Worthington, "  ground  out 
Brainard,  gripping  the  arms  of  his  chair.  ' '  For 
weeks  I  have  suspected  him.  They  have  been 
too  clever  for  me.  Constance,  while  I  have  been 
going  around  laying  myself  open  to  discovery, 
Sybil  has  played  a  cool  and  careful  game." 

He  was  pacing  the  floor. 

"  So — that's  the  plan.  Hold  back,  keep  the 
stock  up  until  they  get  started.  Then  let  it  go 
down  until  I'm  forced  to  sell  out  at  a  loss,  buy 
it  back  cheap,  and  control  the  reorganization. 
Well,  I  haven't  control  now,  alone.  I  wish  I 
did  have.  But  neither  have  they.  The  public 
owns  the  stock  now.  I  need  it.  Who'll  get  it 
first — that's  the  question!  " 

He  was  thinking  rapidly. 

"  If  you  could  do   a  little  bear  manipula- 


THE  EAVESDROPPERS  137 

tion  yourself,"  she  suggested.  "  That  might 
get  the  public  scared.  You  could  get  enough  to 
control,  perhaps,  then.  They  wouldn't  dare  sell 
• — or  if  they  did  they  would  weaken  their  own 
control.  Either  way,  you  get  them,  going  or 
coming. ' ' 

"  Exactly  what  I  was  thinking.  Play  their 
own  game — ahead  of  them — accelerate  it." 

It  was  just  after  the  lunch  hour  that  Con 
stance  resumed  her  place  at  her  desk  with  the 
receiver  at  her  ear. 

There  were  voices  again  in  the  board  room. 

"  My  God,  Sheppard,  what  do  you  think? 
Someone  is  selling  Motors — five  points  off  and 
still  going  down. ' ' 

"  Who  is  it?    What  shall  we  do?" 

' '  Who  ?  Brainard,  of  course.  Some  one  has 
peached.  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  ' 

"  Wait.  Let's  call  up  the  News  Agency. 
Hello — yes — what?  Unofficial  rumor  of  pros 
ecution  of  Motors  by  the  government — large 
selling  orders  placed  in  advance.  The  deuce — 
say,  we'll  have  to  meet  this  or — " 

"  Meet  nothing.  It's  Brainard.  He's  going 
down  in  a  big  crash.  We  pour  our  money  into 
his  pockets  now  and  let  him  sell  at  the  top  and 
grab  back  control  with  our  money?  Not  much. 
I  sell,  too." 


138  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

Already  boys  were  on  the  street  with  extras 
crying  the  great  crash  in  Motors.  It  was  only  a 
matter  of  minutes  before  all  the  news  reading 
public  were  thoroughly  scared  at  the  apparently 
bursting  bubble.  Shares  were  dug  up  in  small 
lots,  in  huge  blocks  and  slammed  on  the  market 
for  what  they  would  bring.  All  day  the  pound 
ing  went  on.  Thousands  of  shares  were  poured 
out  until  Motors  which  had  been  climbing  to 
ward  par  in  the  neighborhood  of  79  had  de 
clined  forty  points.  Brainard  had  jumped  in 
first  and  had  realized  the  top  price  for  his  hold 
ings. 

Yet  during  all  the  wild  scenes  when  the  tele 
phone  was  ringing  insistently  for  him,  Brainard, 
having  set  the  machinery  in  motion  and  having 
been  ostentatiously  in  the  office  when  it  started 
in  order  to  avert  suspicion,  could  not  now  be 
found. 

The  market  had  closed  and  Constance  was 
reading  the  account  of  the  collapse  as  it  was 
interpreted  in  the  Wall  Street  editions  of  the 
papers,  when  the  door  opened  and  Brainard 
entered. 

"  This  has  been  a  good  day's  work,  Con 
stance,"  he  said,  flinging  himself  into  a 
chair. 

* '  Yes,  I  was  just  reading  of  it  in  the  papers. 
The  little  microphone  has  put  an  entirely  new 


THE  EAVESDROPPERS  139 

twist  on  affairs.  And  the  best  of  it  is  that  the 
financial  writers  all  seem  to  think  it  was  planned 
by  Worthington  and  the  rest. ' ' 

"  Oh,  hang  Worthington — hang  Motors. 
That  is  what  I  meant. " 

He  slapped  down  a  packet  of  letters  on  the 
desk. 

"  You — you  found  them?  '  gasped  Con 
stance.  She  looked  at  him  keenly.  It  was 
evident  that  a  great  weight  had  been  taken  off 
his  mind. 

"  Yes  indeed.  I  knew  there  was  only  one 
place  where  she  would  put  them — in  her  safe 
with  her  jewels.  She  would  think  I  would  never 
suspect  that  she  had  them  and,  besides,  she  had 
the  combination  changed.  I  went  up  to  the 
house  this  afternoon  when  she  was  out.  I  had 
an  expert  with  me.  He  worked  two  hours, 
steady, — but  he  opened  it.  Here  they  are.  Now 
for  the  real  game. ' ' 

"  What  do  you  mean!  " 

"  I  mean  that  I  noticed  the  name  of  the 
manufacturer  on  your  microphone.  I  have  had 
one  installed  in  the  room  which  she  uses  most 
of  all.  The  wires  run  to  the  next  house  where 
I've  hired  an  apartment.  I  intend  to  '  listen  in  ' 
there.  I'll  get  this  Worthington — yet!  " 

That  night  Constance  and  Brainard  sat  for 


140  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

hours  in  the  empty  apartment  patiently  waiting 
for  word  over  the  microphone. 

At  last  there  was  a  noise  as  of  a  door  open 
ing. 

11  Show  them  in  here.'* 

"  Sybil,"  whispered  Brainard  as  if  perhaps 
she  might  even  hear. 

Then  came  more  voices. 

"  Worthington  and  Drummond,"  he  added. 
11  They  suspect  nothing  yet." 

"  Drummond  knows  this  Dunlap  woman," 
said  Worthington. 

The  detective  launched  forth  in  a  tirade 
against  Constance. 

"  But  she  is  clever,  Drummond.  You  admit 
that." 

' '  Clever  as  they  make  'em. ' ' 

"  You  will  have  her  shadowed?  " 

"  Every  moment,  Mrs.  Brainard." 

"  What's  all  this  about  the  panic  in  Motors, 
Lee?" 

11  Some  other  time,  Sybil,  not  now.  Drum 
mond,  what  do  people  say?  " 

Drummond  hesitated. 

*  *  Out  with  it,  man. ' ' 

"  Well,  Mr.  Worthington,  it  is  said  you 
started  it." 

' '  The  deuce  I  did.  But  I  guess  Sheppard  and 
I  helped  it  along.  We'll  go  the  limit,  too. 


THE  EAVESDROPPERS  141 

After  all,  it  had  to  come.  We'll  load  up  after 
it  reaches  the  bottom." 

The  voices  trailed  off. 

"  Good  night,  Mrs.  Brainard." 

"  Good  night,  Mr.  Drummond.  That  was 
what  I  wanted  to  know." 

A  pause. 

"  Lee,  how  can  I  ever  thank  you?  " 

A  sound  suspiciously  like  a  kiss  came  over 
the  wire.  Brainard  clenched  his  fist. 

"  Good  night,  Sybil.  I  must  go  now — " 
Again  the  voices  trailed  off. 

It  was  several  minutes  before  Brainard  spoke. 
Then  it  was  that  he  showed  his  wonderful 
power  of  concentration. 

"  I  have  a  conference  in  half  an  hour,  Con 
stance,"  he  remarked,  looking  at  his  watch. 
11  It  is  very  important.  It  means  getting  money 
to  support  Motors  on  the  opening  to-morrow 
after  I  have  gathered  in  again  what  I  need.  I 
think  I  can  come  pretty  near  doubling  my  hold 
ings  if  I  play  it  right.  That's  important.  But 
so  is  this." 

"  I  will  listen,"  put  in  Constance.  "  Trust 
me.  If  anything  else  occurs  I  will  tell  you. ' ' 

She  was  at  the  office  early  the  next  day,  but 
not  before  Brainard  who,  bright  and  fresh,  even 
though  he  had  been  up  all  night,  w.°is  primed 


142  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

for  the  battle  of  his  life  at  the  opening  of  the 
market. 

Brainard  had  swung  in  at  the  turn  and  had 
quietly  accumulated  the  stock  control  which  he 
needed.  He  was  now  bulling  the  market  by 
matching  orders,  pyramiding  stock  which  he 
owned,  using  every  device  that  was  known  to  his 
astute  brain. 

On  up  went  Motors,  recovering  the  forty 
points,  gradually,  and  even  going  beyond  in  the 
reaction.  Worthington  and  Sheppard  had  been 
squeezed  out.  Not  for  a  moment  did  he  let  up. 

As  the  clock  on  Trinity  church  struck  three, 
the  closing  hour,  Brainard  wheeled  suddenly  in 
his  chair. 

"  Miss  Dunlap,"  he  said  quietly.  "  I  wish 
that  you  would  tell  Worthington  and  Shep 
pard  that  I  should  like  to  see  them  in  the  board 
room  at  four. ' ' 

Constance  looked  at  her  watchu  There  was 
time  also  to  execute  a  little  scheme  of  her  own. 

Four  o'clock  came.  Brainard  lounged  cas 
ually  across  to  the  board  room.  Instantly  Con 
stance  had  the  receiver  of  the  microphone  at  her 
ear,  straining  to  catch  every  word,  and  to  make 
notes  of  the  stormy  scene,  if  necessary. 

Her  door  opened.    It  was  Sybil  Brabiard. 

The  two  women  looked  at  each  other  «oldly. 
Constance  was  the  first  to  speak. 


THE  EAVESDROPPERS  143 

"  Mrs.  Brainard,"  she  began,  "  I  asked  you 
to  come  down  here — not  Mr.  Worthington. 
More  than  that,  I  asked  the  office  boy  to  direct 
you  here  instead  of  to  his  office.  Do  you  see  that 
machine?  " 

Sybil  looked  at  it  without  a  sign  of  recogni 
tion. 

"  It  is  a  microphone  detective.  It  was  the 
installing  of  that  machine  in  the  board  room 
which  you  interrupted  the  other  night." 

"  Was  it  necessary  that  Mr.  Brainard  should 
put  his  arm  around  you  for  that?  "  inquired 
Mrs.  Brainard  with  biting  sarcasm. 

"  I  had  just  jumped  down  from  the  table  and 
had  almost  lost  my  balance — that  was  all,"  pur 
sued  Constance  imperturbably. 

"  Another  of  these  microphone  eavesdrop 
pers  told  me  of  a  conversation  last  night  in  your 
own  apartment,  Mrs.  Brainard." 

Her  face  blanched.  "  You — have  one — 
there?  " 

"  Yes.  Mr.  Brainard  heard  the  first  con 
versation,  when  Drummond  and  Mr.  Worthing- 
ton  were  there.  After  they  left  he  had  to  at 
tend  a  conference  himself.  I  alone  heard  what 
passed  when  Mr.  Worthington  returned." 

"  You  are  at  liberty  to — " 

"  Mrs.  Brainard.  You  do  not  understand. 
I  have  no  reason  to  want  to  make  you — " 


144  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

An  office  boy  tapped  on  the  door  and  entered. 
"  Mr.  Brainard  wants  you,  Miss  Dunlap." 

' '  I  cannot  explain  now, ' '  resumed  Constance. 
"  Won't  you  sit  here  at  my  desk  and  listen  over 
the  microphone  to  what  happens!  " 

She  was  gone  before  Mrs.  Brainard  could 
reply.  What  did  it  all  mean?  Sybil  put  the 
black  disc  receiver  to  her  ear  as  she  had  seen 
Constance  do.  Her  hand  trembled.  "  Why 
did  she  tell  me  that?  "  she  murmured. 

"  You  can't  prove  it,"  shouted  a  voice 
through  the  black  disc  at  her  ear.  She  was 
startled.  It  was  the  voice  of  Worthington. 

11  Miss  Dunlap — have  you  that  notebook?  ' 
came  the  deep  tones  of  her  husband. 

Constance  read  from  her  first  notes  that  part 
relating  to  the  conspiracy  to  control  Motors, 
carefully  omitting  the  part  about  the  Leblanc 
letters. 

"  It 's  a  lie— a  lie.  " 

"  No,  it  is  not  a  lie.  It  is  all  good  legal  evi 
dence,  the  record  taken  over  the  new  micro 
phone  detective.  Look  up  there  over  the 
chandelier,  Worthington.  The  other  end  is  in 
the  top  drawer  of  Miss  Dunlap 's  desk. ' ' 

.  "  I'll  fight  that  to  a  finish,  Brainard.  You 
are  clever  but  there  are  other  things  besides 
Motors  that  you  have  to  answer  for." 

"  No.    Those  letters — that  is  what  you  mean 


THE  EAVESDROPPERS  145 

— are  in  my  possession  now.  You  didn't  know 
that?  All  the  eavesdropping,  if  you  choose  to 
call  it  that,  was  not  done  here,  either,  by  a 
long  shot,  Worthington.  I  had  one  of  these 
machines  in  my  wife's  reception  room.  I  have 
all  sorts  of  little  scraps  of  conversation,"  he 
boasted.  "  I  also  have  an  account  of  a  visit 
there  from  two — er — scoundrels — " 

"  Mrs.  Brainard  to  see  you,  sir,"  announced 
a  boy  at  the  door. 

Constance  had  risen.  Her  face  was  flushed 
and  her  breast  rose  and  fell  with  excitement. 

11  Mr.  Brainard,"  she  interrupted.  "  I  must 
explain — confess.  Mrs.  Brainard  has  been  sit 
ting  in  my  office  listening  to  us  over  the  micro 
phone.  I  arranged  it.  I  asked  her  to  come 
down,  using  another  name. as  a  pretext.  But 
I  didn't  think  she  would  interrupt  so  soon.  Be 
fore  you  see  her — let  me  read  this.  It  was  a 
conversation  I  got  after  you  had  left  last  night 
and  so  far  I  have  had  no  chance  to  tell  you  of 
it.  Some  one,"  she  laid  particular  stress  on 
the  word,  "  came  back  after  that  first  inter 
view.  Listen. ' ' 

"  No,  Lee,"  Constance  read  rapidly  from 
her  notes,  "  no.  Don't  think  I  am  ungrateful. 
You  have  been  one  friend  in  a  thousand  through 
all  this.  I  shall  have  my  decree — soon,  now. 
Don't  spoil  it—" 


146  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

' '  Bnt  Sybil,  think  of  him.  What  did  he  ever 
care  for  you  ?  He  has  made  you  free  already. ' ' 

"  He  is  still  my  husband." 

"  Take  this  latest  escapade  with  this  Miss 
Dunlap. ' ' 

11  Well,  what  do  I  really  know  about  that!  ' 

'  *  You  saw  him. ' ' 

"  Yes,  but  maybe  it  was  as  he  said." 

The  door  was  flung  open,  interrupting  Con 
stance  's  reading,  and  Sybil  Brainard  entered. 
The  artificiality  of  the  beauty  parlor  was  all 
gone.  She  was  a  woman,  who  had  been 
wronged  and  deceived. 

"  Next  friend — a  true  next  friend — fiend 
would  be  better,  Lee  Worthington, "  she 
scorned.  "  How  can  you  stand  there  and  look 
me  in  the  face,  how  could  you  tell  me  of  your 
love  for  me,  when  all  the  time  you  cared  no 
more  for  me  or  for  any  other  woman  than  for 
that — that  Leblanc?  You  knew  that  I,  who  was 
as  jealous  as  I  could  be  of  Rodman,  had  heard 
a  little — you  added  more.  Yet  when  you  had 
played  on  my  feelings,  you  would  have  cast  me 
off,  too — I  know  it ;  I  know  your  kind. ' ' 

She  paused  for  breath,  then  turned  slowly  to 
Brainard  with  a  note  of  pathos  in  her  voice. 

11  Our  temperaments  may  have  been  dif 
ferent,  Rodman.  They  were  not  when  we  were 
poor.  Perhaps  I  have  not  developed  with  you, 


THE  EAVESDROPPERS  147 

the  way  you  want  of  me.  But,  Rodman,  did 
you  ever  stop  to  think  that  perhaps,  perhaps 
if  I  had  ever  had  the  chance  to  be  taken  into 
your  confidence  more  often — " 

"  Will  you — forgive  me  I  "  Brainard  man 
aged  to  blurt  out. 

"  Will  you  forgive  me?  "  she  returned 
frankly. 

"  I — forgive?    I  have  nothing  to  forgive. " 

* '  I  could  have  understood,  Rodman,  if  it  had 
been  Miss  Dunlap.  She  is  clever,  wonderful. 
But  that  Leblanc — never!  ' 

Sybil  Brainard  turned  to  Constance. 

"  Miss  Dunlap — Mrs.  Dunlap, "  she  sobbed, 
"  forgive  me.  You — you  are  a  better  woman 
than  I  am. ' ' 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  CLAIBVOYANTS 

"  Do  you  believe  in  dreams?  "  Constance 
Dunlap  looked  searchingly  at  her  interrogator, 
as  if  her  face  or  manner  betrayed  some  new 
side  of  her  character. 

Mrs.  deForest  Caswell  was  an  attractive  wo 
man  verging  on  forty,  a  chance  acquaintance 
at  a  shoppers'  tea  room  downtown  who  had 
proved  to  be  an  uptown  neighbor. 

"  I  have  had  some  rather  strange  expe 
riences,  Mildred,"  confessed  Constance  tenta 
tively.  "  Why?  " 

"  Because — "  the  other  woman  hesitated, 
then  added,  "  why  should  I  not  tell  you?  Last 
night,  Constance,  I  had  the  strangest  dream. 
It  has  left  such  an  impression  on  me  that  I 
can't  shake  it  off,  although  I  have  tried  all 
day." 

"Yes?    Tell  me  about  it." 

Mildred  Caswell  paused  a  moment,  then  be 
gan  slowly,  as  if  not  to  omit  anything  from  her 
story. 

"  I  dreamt  that  Forest  was  dying.  I  could 
148 


THE  CLAIRVOYANTS  149 

see  him,  could  see  the  doctor  and  the  nurse, 
everything.  And  yet  somehow  I  could  not  get 
to  him.  I  was  afraid,  with  such  an  oppressive 
fear.  I  tried — oh,  how  I  tried!  I  struggled, 
and  how  badly  I  felt!  "  and  she  shuddered  at 
the  very  recollection. 

"  There  seemed  to  be  a  wall,"  she  resumed, 
"  a  narrow  wall  in  the  way  and  I  couldn't  get 
over  it.  As  often  as  I  tried,  I  fell.  And  then  I 
seemed  to  be  pursued  by  some  kind  of  animal, 
half  bull,  half  snake.  I  ran.  It  followed 
closely.  I  seemed  to  see  a  crowd  of  people  and 
I  felt  that  if  I  could  only  get  to  that  crowd, 
somehow  I  would  be  safe,  perhaps  might  even 
get  over  the  wall  and — I  woke  up — almost 
screaming. ' ' 

The  woman's  face  was  quite  blanched. 

"  My  dear,"  remonstrated  Constance,  "  you 
must  not  take  it  so.  Remember — it  was  only  a 
dream. 

"  I  know  it  was  only  a  dream,"  she  said, 
"  but  you  don't  know  what  is  back  of  it." 

Mildred  Caswell  had  from  time  to  time  hinted 
to  Constance  of  the  growing  incompatibility  of 
her  married  life,  but  as  Constance  was  getting 
used  to  confidences,  she  had  kept  silent,  know 
ing  that  her  friend  would  tell  her  in  time. 

"  You  must  have  guessed,"   faltered  Mrs. 


150  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

Caswell,  "  that  Forest  and  I  are  not — not  on 
the  best  of  terms,  that  we  are  getting  further 
and  further  apart." 

It  rather  startled  Constance  to  hear  frankly 
stated  what  she  already  had  observed.  She 
wondered  how  far  the  estrangement  had  gone. 
The  fact  was  that  she  had  rather  liked  deForest 
Caswell,  although  she  had  only  met  her  friend 's 
husband  a  few  times.  In  fact  she  was  sur 
prised  that  momentarily  there  flashed  through 
her  mind  the  query  as  to  whether  Mildred  her 
self  might  be  altogether  blameless  in  the  grow 
ing  uncongeniality. 

Mildred  Caswell  had  drawn  out  of  her 
chatelaine  a  bit  of  newspaper  and  handed  it  to 
Constance,  not  as  if  it  was  of  any  importance 
to  herself  but  as  if  it  would  explain  better  than 
she  could  tell  what  she  meant. 

Constance  read: 

MME.  CASSANDRA, 
THE  VEILED  PROPHETESS 

Born  with  a  double  veil,  educated  in  occult 
mysteries  in  Egypt  and  India.  Without  asking 
a  question,  tells  your  name  and  reads  your 
secret  troubles  and  the  remedy.  Reads  your 
dreams.  Great  questions  of  life  quickly  solved. 
Failure  turned  to  success,  the  separated  brought 


THE  CLAIRVOYANTS  151 

together,  advice  on  all  aff airs  of  life,  love,  mar 
riage,  divorce,  business,  speculation,  and  in 
vestments.  Overcomes  all  evil  influences.  Ever 
ready  to  help  and  advise  those  with  capital  to 
find  a  safe  and  paying  investment.  No  fee 
until  it  succeeds.  Could  anything  be  fairer! 

THE  RETREAT, 
W.  47th  Street. 


"  Won't  you  come  with  me  to  Madame  Cas 
sandra?  "  asked  Mrs.  Caswell,  as  Constance 
finished  reading.  "  She  always  seems  to  do 
me  so  much  good. ' ' 

"  Who  is  Madame  Cassandra?  "  asked  Con 
stance,  rereading  the  last  part  of  the  advertise 
ment. 

"  I  suppose  you  would  call  her  a  dream 
doctor,"  said  Mildred. 

It  was  a  new  idea  to  Constance,  this  of  a 
dream  doctor  to  settle  the  affairs  of  life.  Only 
a  moment  she  hesitated,  then  she  answered  sim 
ply,  "  Yes,  111  go."  , 

"  The  retreat  "  was  just  off  Longacre 
Square  among  quite  a  nest  of  fakers.  A  queue 
of  automobiles  before  the  place  testified,  how 
ever,  to  the  prosperity  of  Madame  Cassandra, 
as  they  entered  the  bronze  grilled  plate  glass 
door  and  turned  on  the  first  floor  toward  the 


11 


152  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

home  of  the  Adept.  Constance  had  an  un 
comfortable  feeling  as  they  entered  of  being 
watched  behind  the  shades  of  the  apartment. 
Still,  they  had  no  trouble  in  being  admitted,  and 
a  soft-voiced  colored  attendant  welcomed  them. 

The  esoteric  flat  of  Madame  Cassandra  was 
darkened  except  for  the  electric  lights  glowing 
in  amber  and  rose-colored  shades.  There  were 
several  women  there  already.  As  they  entered 
Constance  had  noticed  a  peculiar,  dreamy  odor. 
There  did  not  seem  to  be  any  hurry,  any  such 
thing  as  time  here,  so  skilfully  was  the  place 
run.  There  was  no  noise ;  the  feet  sank  in  half- 
inch  piles  of  rugs,  and  easy-chairs  and  divans 
were  scattered  about. 

Once  a  puff  of  light  smoke  appeared,  and 
Constance  awoke  to  the  fact  that  some  were 
smoking  little  delicately  gold-banded  cigarettes. 
Indeed  it  was  all  quite  recherche. 

Mrs.  Caswell  took  one  from  a  maid.  So  did 
Constance,  but  after  a  puff  or  two  managed  to 
put  it  out  and  later  to  secure  another  which  she 
kept. 

Madame  Cassandra  herself  proved  to  be  a 
tall,  slender,  pale  woman  with  dark  hair  and  a 
magnetic  eye,  an  eye  that  probably  accounted 
more  than  anything  else  for  her  success.  She 
was  clad  in  a  house  gown  of  purplish  silk  which 
clung  tightly  to  her,  and  at  her  throat  a  diamond 


THE  CLAIRVOYANTS  153 

pendant  sparkled,  as  well  as  other  brilliants  on 
her  long,  slender  fingers. 

She  met  Mildred  and  Constance  with  out 
stretched  hands. 

"  So  glad  to  see  yon,  my  dears,"  purred 
Madame,  leading  the  way  into  an  inner  sanctum. 

Mrs.  Caswell  had  seated  herself  with  the  air 
of  one  who  worshiped  at  the  shrine,  while 
Constance  gazed  about  curiously. 

"  Madame, "  she  began  a  little  tremu 
lously,  "  I  have  had  another  of  those  dreadful 
dreams." 

41  You  poor  dear  soul,"  soothed  Madame, 
stroking  her  hand.  "  Tell  me  of  it — all." 

Quickly  Mrs.  Caswell  poured  forth  her  story 
as  she  had  already  told  it  to  Constance. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Caswell,"  remarked  the 
high  priestess  slowly,  when  the  story  was  com 
plete,  "  it  is  all  very  simple.  His  love  is  dead. 
That  is  what  you  fear  and  it  is  the  truth.  The 
wall  is  the  wall  that  he  has  erected  against  you. 
Try  Lo  forget  it — to  forget  him.  You  would  be 
better  off.  There  are  other  things  in  the 
world—" 

* '  Ah,  but  I  cannot  live  as  I  am  used  to  with 
out  money,"  murmured  Mrs.  Caswell. 

"  I  know,"  replied  Madame.  "  It  is  that 
that  keeps  many  a  woman  with  a  brute.  When 
financial  and  economic  independence  come,  then 


154  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

woman  will  be  free  and  only  then.  Now,  listen. 
Would  you  like  to  be  free — financially?  You  re 
member  that  delightful  Mr.  Davies  who  has 
been  here?  Yes?  Well,  he  is  a  regular  client 
of  mine,  now.  He  is  a  broker  and  never  em 
barks  in  any  enterprise  without  first  consulting 
me.  Just  the  other  day  I  read  his  fortune  in. 
United  Traction.  It  has  gone  up  five  points  al 
ready  and  will  go  fifteen  more.  If  you  want,  I 
will  give  you  a  card  to  him.  Let  me  see — yes, 
I  can  do  that.  You  too  will  be  lucky  in  specula 
tion." 

Constance,  with  one  ear  open,  had  been  busy 
looking  about  the  room.  In  a  bookcase  she  saw 
a  number  of  books  and  paused  to  examine  their 
titles.  She  was  surprised  to  see  among  the  old 
style  dream  books  several  works  on  modern 
psychology,  particularly  on  the  interpretation 
of  dreams. 

"  Of  course,  Mrs.  Caswell,  I  don't  want  to 
urge  you,"  Madame  was  saying.  "I  have  only 
pointed  out  a  way  in  which  you  can  be  inde 
pendent.  And,  you  know,  Mr.  Davies  is  a  per 
fect  gentleman,  so  courteous  and  reliable.  I 
know  you  will  be  successful  if  you  take  my  ad 
vice  and  go  to  him. ' ' 

Mildred  said  nothing  for  a  few  moments,  but 
as  she  rose  to  go  she  remarked,  "  Thank  you 


THE  CLAIBVOYANTS  155 

rery  much.  I'll  think  about  it.  Anyhow, 
you  've  made  me  feel  better. '  ' 

11  So  kind  of  you  to  say  it,"  murmured  the 
Adept.  "  I'm  sorry  you  must  go,  but  really  I 
have  other  appointments.  Please  come  again — 
with  your  friend.  Good-bye. ' ' 

"  What  do  you  think  of  her?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Ca  swell  on  the  street. 

1(1  Very  clever,"  answered  Constance  du 
biously. 

Mrs.  Caswell  looked  up  quickly.  "  You  don't 
like  her?  ' 

11  To  tell  the  truth,"  confessed  Constance 
quietly,  "  I  have  had  too  much  experience  in 
Wall  Street  myself  to  trust  to  a  clairvoyant" 

They  had  scarcely  reached  the  corner  before 
Constance  again  had  that  peculiar  feeling 
which  some  psychologists  have  noted,  of  being 
stared  at.  She  turned,  but  saw  no  one.  Still 
the  feeling  persisted.  She  could  stand  it  no 
longer. 

"  Don't  think  me  crazy,  Mildred,"  she  said, 
"  but  I  just  have  a  desire  to  walk  back  a  block. " 

Constance  had  turned  suddenly.  As  she 
glanced  keenly  about  she  was  aware  of  a 
familiar  figure  gazing  into  the  window  of  an 
art  store  across  the  street.  He  had  stopped  so 
that  although  his  back  was  turned  he  could,  by 
a  slight  shift  of  his  position,  still  see  by  means 


156  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

of  a  mirror  in  the  window  what  was  going  on 
across  the  street  behind  him. 

One  look  was  enough.  It  was  Dmmmond, 
the  detective.  What  did  it  mean! 

Neither  woman  said  much  as  they  rode  up 
town,  and  parted  on  the  respective  floors  of 
their  apartment  house.  Still  Constance  could 
not  get  out  of  her  head  the  recollection  of  the 
dream  doctor  and  of  Drummond. 

Restless,  she  determined  that  night  to  go 
down  to  the  Public  Library  and  see  whether 
any  of  the  books  at  the  clairvoyant's  were  on  the 
shelves.  Fortunately  she  found  some,  found  in 
deed  that  they  were  not  all,  as  she  had  half  sus 
pected,  the  works  of  fakers  but  that  quite  a 
literature  had  been  built  up  around  the  new 
psychology  of  dreams. 

Deeply  she  delved  into  the  fascinating  sub 
jects  that  had  been  opened  by  the  studies  of  the 
famous  Dr.  Sigmund  Freud  of  Vienna,  and  as 
she  read  she  found  that  she  began  to  under 
stand  much  about  Mrs.  Caswell — and,  with  a 
start,  about  her  own  self. 

At  first  she  revolted  against  the  unpleasant 
feature  of  the  new  dream  philosophy — the  irre 
sistible  conclusion  that  all  humanity,  under 
neath  the  shell,  is  sensuous  or  sensual  in  na 
ture,  that  practically  all  dreams  portray  some 


THE  CLAIRVOYANTS  157 

delight  of  the  senses  and  that  sexual  dreams  are 
a  large  proportion  of  all  visions.  But  the  more 
she  thought  of  it,  the  more  clearly  was  she  able 
to  analyze  Mrs.  Caswell 's  dream  and  to  get 
back  at  the  causes  of  it,  in  the  estrangement 
from  her  husband  and  perhaps  the  brutality  of 
his  ignorance  of  woman.  And  then,  too,  there 
was  Drummond.  What  was  he  doing  in  the 
case? 

She  did  not  see  Mildred  Caswell  again  until 
the  following  afternoon.  But  then  she  seemed 
unusually  bright  in  contrast  with  the  depres 
sion  of  the  day  before.  Constance  was  not 
surprised.  Her  intuition  told  her  that  some 
thing  had  happened  and  she  hardly  needed  to 
guess  that  Mrs.  Caswell  had  followed  the  ad 
vice  of  the  clairvoyant  and  had  been  to  see  the 
wonderful  Mr.  Davies,  to  whom  the  mysteries 
of  the  stock  market  were  an  open  book. 

"  Have  you  had  any  other  dreams?  "  asked 
Constance  casually. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mildred,  "  but  not  like  the 
one  that  depressed  me.  Last  night  I  had  a  very 
pleasant  dream.  It  seemed  that  I  was  break 
fasting  with  Mr.  Davies.  I  remember  that 
there  was  a  hot  coal  fire  in  the  grate.  Then 
suddenly  a  messenger  came  in  with  news  that 
United  Traction  had  advanced  twenty  points. 
Wasn't  it  strange?  " 


158  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

Constance  said  nothing.  In  fact  it  did  not 
seem  strange  to  her  at  all.  The  strange  thing 
to  her,  now  that  she  was  a  sort  of  amateur 
dream  reader  herself,  was  that  Mrs.  Caswell 
did  not  seem  to  see  the  real  import  of  her  own 
dream. 

"  You  have  seen  Mr.  Davies  to-day?  "  Con 
stance  ventured. 

Mrs.  Caswell  laughed.  "  I  wasn't  going  to 
tell  you.  You  seemed  so  set  against  speculating 
in  Wall  Street.  But  since  you  ask  me,  I  may  as 
well  admit  it." 

"  When  did  you  see  him  before!  "  went  on 
Constance.  * '  Did  you  have  much  invested  with 
him  already?  " 

Mrs.  Caswell  glanced  up,  startled.  "  My — 
you  are  positively  uncanny,  Constance.  How 
did  you  know  I  had  seen  him  before  ?  ' ' 

"  One  seldom  dreams,"  said  Constance, 
"  about  anything  unless  it  has  been  suggested 
by  an  event  of  the  day  before.  You  saw  him  to 
day.  That  would  not  have  inspired  the  dream 
of  last  night.  Therefore  I  concluded  that 
you  must  have  seen  him  and  invested  before. 
Madame  Cassandra's  mention  of  him  yesterday 
caused  the  dream  of  last  night.  The  dream  of 
last  night  probably  influenced  you  to  see  him 
again  to-day,  and  you  invested  in  United  Trac 
tion.  That  is  the  way  dreams  work.  Probably 


THE  CLAIRVOYANTS  159 

more  of  conduct  than  we  know  is  influenced  by 
dream  life.  Now,  if  you  should  get  fifteen  or 
twenty  points  you  would  be  in  a  fair  way  to 
join  the  ranks  of  those  who  believe  that  dreams 
do  come  true." 

Mrs.  Caswell  looked  at  her  almost  alarmed, 
then  attempted  to  turn  it  off  with  a  laugh, 
"  And  perhaps  breakfast  with  him!  ' 

"  When  I  do  set  up  as  interpreter  of  dreams,'' 
answered  Constance  simply,  "  I'll  tell  you 
more." 

On  one  point  she  had  made  up  her  mind. 
That  was  to  visit  Mr.  Davies  herself  the  next 
day. 

She  found  his  office  a  typical  bucket  shop, 
even  down  to  having  a  section  partitioned  off 
for  women  clients  of  the  firm.  She  had  not 
intended  to  risk  anything,  and  so  was  prepared 
when  Mr.  Davies  himself  approached  her  cour 
teously.  Instinctively  Constance  distrusted 
him.  He  was  too  cordial,  too  polite.  She  could 
feel  the  claws  hidden  in  his  velvety  paw,  as  it 
were.  There  was  a  debonaire  assurance  about 
him,  the  air  of  a  man  who  thought  he  under 
stood  women,  and  indeed  did  understand  a  cer 
tain  type.  But  to  Constance,  who  was  essen 
tially  a  man's  woman,  Davies  was  only  revolt 
ing. 


160  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

She  managed  to  talk  without  committing  her 
self,  and  he  in  his  complacency  was  glad  to 
hope  that  he  was  making  a  new  customer.  She 
had  to  be  careful  not  to  betray  any  of  the  real 
and  extensive  knowledge  about  Wall  Street 
which  she  actually  possessed.  But  the  glib  mis 
representations  about  United  Traction  quite 
amazed  her. 

When  she  rose  to  go,  Davies  accompanied  her 
to  the  door,  then  out  into  the  hall  to  the  elevator. 
As  he  bent  over  to  shake  hands,  she  noted  that 
he  held  her  hand  just  a  little  longer  than  was 
necessary. 

"  He's  a  swindler  of  the  first  water,"  she 
concluded  as  she  was  whisked  down  in  the 
elevator.  "I'm  sure  Mildred  is  in  badly  with 
this  crowd,  one  urging  her  on  in  her  trouble, 
the  other  making  it  worse  and  fleecing  her  into 
the  bargain. ' ' 

At  the  entrance  she  paused,  undecided  which 
was  the  quickest  route  home.  As  by  chance  she 
turned  just  for  a  moment  she  thought  she  caught 
a  fleeting  glimpse  of  Drummond  dodging  behind 
a  pillar.  It  was  only  for  an  instant  but  even 
that  apparition  was  enough. 

"  I  will  get  her  out  of  this  safely,"  resolved 
Constance.  ' '  I  will  keep  one  more  fly  from  his 
web. ' ' 

Constance  felt  as  if,  even  now,  she  must  see 


THE  CLAIRVOYANTS  161 

Mildred  and,  although  she  knew  nothing,  at  least 
put  her  on  her  guard.  She  did  not  have  long 
to  wait  for  her  chance.  It  was  late  in  the  after 
noon  when  her  door  buzzer  sounded. 

"  Constance,  I've  been  looking  for  you  all 
day,"  sighed  Mildred,  dropping  sobbing  into  a 
chair.  "  I  am — distracted." 

"  Why,  my  dear,  what's  the  matter?  "  asked 
Constance.  "  Let  me  make  you  a  cup  of 
coffee. ' ' 

Over  the  steaming  little  cups  Mildred  grew 
more  calm. 

"  Forest  has  found  out  in  some  way  that  I 
am  speculating  in  Wall  Street, ' '  she  confided  at 
length.  ' '  I  suppose  some  of  his  friends — he  has 
lots  down  there — told  him." 

Momentarily  the  picture  of  Drummond  back 
of  the  post  in  Davies  *  building  flashed  over  Con 
stance. 

'  *  And  he  is  awfully  angry.  Oh,  I  never  knew 
him  to  be  so  angry — and  sarcastic,  ttfb." 

11  Was  it  wholly  over  your  money!  "  asked 
Constance.  "  Was  there  nothing  else!  " 

Mrs.  Caswell  started.  "  You  grow  more 
weird,  every  day,  Constance.  Yes — there  was 
something  else." 

11  Mr.  Davies?  " 

Mildred  had  risen.  "  Don't — don't — "  she 
cried. 


162  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

1 '  Then  you  do  really — care  for  him  ?  ' '  asked 
Constance  mercilessly. 

"  No — no,  a  thousand  times — no.  How  can  If 
I  have  put  all  such  thoughts  out  of  my  mind — 
long  ago."  She  paused,  then  went  on  more 
calmly,  ."  Constance,  believe  me  or  not — I  am 
just  as  good  a  woman  to-day  as  I  was  the  day 
I  married  Forest.  No — I  would  not  even  let 
the  thought  enter  my  head — never!  " 

For  perhaps  an  hour  after  her  friend  had 
gone,  Constance  sat  thinking.  What  should  she 
do  ?  Something  must  be  done  and  soon.  As  she 
thought,  suddenly  the  truth  flashed  over  her. 

Caswell  had  employed  Drummond  to  shadow 
his  wife  in  the  hope  that  he  might  unearth  some 
thing  that  might  lead  to  a  divorce.  Drummond, 
like  so  many  divorce  detectives,  was  not  averse 
to  guiding  events,  to  put  it  mildly.  He  had  in 
gratiated  himself,  perhaps,  with  the  clairvoyant 
and  Davies.  Constance  had  often  heard  before 
of  clairvoyants  and  brokers  who  worked  in  con 
junction  to  fleece  the  credulous.  Now  another 
and  more  serious  element  than  the  loss  of  money 
was  involved.  Added  to  them  was  a  divorce 
detective — and  honor  itself  was  at  stake.  She 
remembered  the  doped  cigarettes.  She  had 
heard  of  them  before  at  clairvoyants '.  She  saw 
it  all — Madame  Cassandra  playing  on  Mildred's 


THE  CLAIRVOYANTS  163 

wounded  affections,  the  broker  on  both  that  and 
her  desire  to  be  independent — and  Drummond 
pulling  the  wires  that  all  might  take  advantage 
of  her  woman 's  frailty. 

That  moment  Constance  determined  on  ac 
tion. 

First  she  telephoned  to  deForest  Caswell  at 
his  office.  It  was  an  unconventional  thing  to  do 
to  ask  him  to  call,  but  she  made  some  plausible 
pretext.  She  was  surprised  to  find  that  he  ac 
cepted  it  without  hesitating.  It  set  her  thinking. 
Drummond  must  have  told  him  something  of  her 
and  he  had  thought  this  as  good  a  time  as  any 
to  face  her.  In  that  case  Drummond  would 
probably  come  too.  She  was  prepared. 

She  had  intended  to  have  one  last  talk  with 
Mildred,  but  had  no  need  to  call  her.  Utterly 
wretched,  the  poor  little  woman  came  in  again 
to  see  her  as  she  had  done  scores  of  times  before, 
to  pour  out  her  heart.  Forest  had  not  come 
home  to  dinner,  had  not  even  taken  the  trouble 
to  telephone.  Constance  did  not  say  that  she 
herself  was  responsible. 

' '  Do  you  really  want  to  know  the  truth  about 
your  dreams?  "  asked  Constance,  after  she  had 
prevailed  upon  Mildred  to  eat  a  little. 

* '  I  do  know, ' '  she  returned. 

' '  No,  you  don 't, ' '  went  on  Constance,  now  de- 


164  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

termined  to  tell  her  the  truth  whether  she  liked 
it  or  not.  "  That  clairvoyant  and  Mr.  Davies 
are  in  league,  playing  you  for  a  sucker,  as  they 
say. ' ' 

Mrs.  Caswell  did  not  reply  for  a  moment. 
Then  she  drew  a  long  breath  and  shut  her  eyes. 
"  Oh,  you  don't  know  how  true  what  she  says 
is  to  me.  She " 

"  Listen,"  interrupted  Constance.  "  Mil 
dred,  I'm  going  to  be  frank,  brutally  frank. 
Madame  Cassandra  has  read  your  character, 
not  the  character  as  you  think  it  is,  but  your 
unconscious,  subconscious  self.  She  knows  that 
there  is  no  better  way  to  enter  into  the  intimate 
life  of  a  client,  according  to  the  new  psychology, 
than  by  getting  at  and  analyzing  the  dreams. 
And  she  knows  that  you  can't  go  far  in  dream 
analysis  without  finding  sex.  It  is  one  of  the 
strongest  natural  impulses,  yet  subject  to  the 
strongest  repression,  and  hence  on©  of  the 
weakest  points  of  our  culture. 

"  She  is  actually  helping  along  your  aliena 
tion  for  that  broker.  You  yourself  have  given 
me  the  clue  in  your  dreams.  Only  I  am  telling 
you  the  truth  about  them.  She  holds  it  back 
and  tells  you  plausible  falsehoods  to  help  her 
own  ends.  She  is  trying  to  arouse  in  you  those 
passions  which  you  have  suppressed,  and  she 
has  not  scrupled  to  use  drugged  cigarettes  with 


THE  CLAIRVOYANTS  165 

you  and  others  to  do  it.  You  remember  the 
breakfast  dream,  when  I  said  that  much  could 
be  traced  back  to  dreams?  A  thing  happens. 
It  causes  a  dream.  That  in  turn  sometimes 
causes  action.  No,  don't  interrupt.  Let  me 
finish  first 

"  Take  that  first  dream,"  continued  Con 
stance,  rapidly  thrusting  home  her  interpreta 
tion  so  that  it  would  have  its  full  effect.  '  *  You 
dreamed  that  your  husband  was  dying  and  you 
were  afraid.  She  said  it  meant  love  was  dead. 
It  did  not.  The  fact  is  that  neurotic  fear  in  a 
woman  has  its  origin  in  repressed,  unsatisfied 
love,  love  which  for  one  reason  or  another  is 
turned  away  from  its  object  and  has  not  suc 
ceeded  in  being  applied.  Then  his  death.  That 
simply  means  that  you  have  a  feeling  that  you 
might  be  happier  if  he  were  away  and  didn't 
devil  you.  It  is  a  survival  of  childhood,  when 
death  is  synonymous  with  absence.  I  know 
you  don't  believe  it.  But  if  you  had  studied 
the  subject  as  I  have  in  the  last  few  days 
you'd  understand.  Madame  Cassandra  under 
stands. 

"And  the  wall.  That  was  Wall  Street, 
probably,  which  does  divide  you  two.  You 
tried  to  get  over  it  and  you  fell.  That  means 
your  fear  of  actually  falling,  morally,  of  being 
a  fallen  woman." 


166  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

Mildred  was  staring  wildly.  She  might  deny 
but  in  her  heart  she  must  admit. 

"  The  thing  that  pursued  you,  half  bull,  half 
snake,  was  Davies  and  his  blandishments.  I 
have  seen  him.  I  know  what  he  is.  The  crowd 
in  a  dream  always  denotes  a  secret.  He  is 
pursuing  you,  as  in  the  dream.  But  he  hasn't 
caught  you.  He  thinks  there  is  in  you  the  same 
wild  demimondaine  instinct  that  with  many  an 
ardent  woman  slumbers  unknown  in  the  back 
of  her  mind. 

"  Whatever  you  may  say,  you  do  think  of 
hi™.  When  a  woman  dreams  of  breakfasting 
cozily  with  some  one  other  than  her  husband 
it  has  an  obvious  meaning.  As  for  the  mes 
senger  and  the  message  about  the  United  Trac 
tion,  there,  too,  was  a  plain  wish,  and,  as  you 
must  see,  wishes  in  one  form  or  another,  dis 
guised  or  distorted,  lie  at  the  basis  of  dreams. 
Take  the  coal  fire.  That,  too,  is  susceptible 
of  interpretation,  I  think  you  must  have  heard 
the  couplet: 

"  '  No  coal,  no  fire  so  hotly  glows 

As  the  secret  love  that  no  one  knows.'  " 

Mildred  Caswell  had  risen,  an  indignant 
flush  on  her  face. 

Constance  put  her  hand  on  her  arm  gently 


THE  CLAIBVOYANTS  167 

to  restrain  her,  knowing  that  such  indignation 
was  the  first  sign  that  she  had  struck  at  the 
core  of  truth  in  her  interpretation. 

"  My  dear,"  she  urged,  "I'm  only  telling 
you  the  truth,  for  your  own  sake,  and  not  to 
take  advantage  of  you  as  Madame  Cassandra 
is  doing.  Please — remember  that  the  best 
evidence  of  your  normal  condition  is  just  what 
I  find,  that  absence  of  love  would  be  abnormal. 
My  dear,  you  are  what  the  psychologists  call  a 
consciously  frigid,  unconsciously  passionate 
woman.  Consciously  you  reject  this  Davies; 
unconsciously  you  accept  him.  And  it  is  the 
more  dangerous,  although  you  do  not  know  it, 
because  some  one  else  is  watching.  It  was 
not  one  of  his  friends  who  told  your  hus 
band " 

Mrs.  Caswell  had  paled.  "  Is — is  there  a — 
detective?  "  she  faltered. 

Constance  nodded. 

Mildred  had  collapsed  completely.  She  was 
sobbing  in  a  chair,  her  head  bowed  in  her 
hands,  her  little  lace  handkerchief  soaked. 
"  What  shall  I  do?  What  shall  I  dot  " 

There  was  a  sudden  tap  at  the  door. 

"  Quick — in  there,"  whispered  Constance, 
shoving  her  through  the  portieres  into  the 
drawing  room. 

It  was  Forest  CaswelL 

12 


168  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

For  a  moment  Constance  stood  irresolute, 
wondering  just  how  to  meet  him,  then  she  said, 
"  Good  evening,  Mr.  Caswell.  I  hope  you  will 
pardon  me  for  asking  you  to  call  on  me,  but, 
as  you  know,  I've  come  to  know  your  wife — 
perhaps  better  than  you  do. ' ' 

"  Not  better,"  he  corrected,  seeming  to  see 
that  it  was  directness  that  she  was  aiming  at. 
"  It  is  bad  enough  to  get  mixed  up  badly  in 
Wall  Street,  but  what  would  you  yourself  say — 
you  are  a  business  woman — what  would  you  say 
about  getting  into  the  clutches  of  a — a  dream 
doctor — and  worse  1  ' 

He  had  put  Constance  on  the  defensive  in  a 
sentence. 

"  Don't  you  ever  dream?  "  she  asked  quietly. 

He  looked  at  her  a  moment  as  if  doubting 
even  her  mentality. 

' '  Lord, ' '  he  exclaimed  in  disgust,  * '  you,  too, 
defend  it?  " 

"  But,  don't  you  dream?  "  she  persisted. 

"  Why,  of  course  I  dream,"  he  answered 
somewhat  petulantly.  "  What  of  it?  I  don't 
guide  my  actions  by  it." 

' '  Do  you  ever  dream  of  Mildred  ?  '  she 
asked. 

"  Sometimes,"  he  admitted  reluctantly. 

"  Ever  of  other — er — people?  "  she  pursued. 

"Yes,"   he  replied,  "  sometimes   of   other 


THE  CLAIRVOYANTS  169 

people.  But  what  has  that  to  do  with  it!  I 
cannot  help  my  dreams.  My  conduct  I  can  help 
and  I  do  help.*' 

Constance  had  not  expected  him  to  be  frank 
to  the  extent  of  taking  her  into  his  confidence. 
Still,  she  felt  that  he  had  told  her  just  enough. 
She  discerned  a  vague  sense  of  jealousy  in  his 
tone  which  told  her  more  than  words  that  what 
ever  he  might  have  said  or  done  to  Mildred  he 
resented,  unconsciously,  the  manner  in  which 
she  had  striven  to  gain  sympathy  outside. 

"  Fortunately  he  knows  nothing  of  the  new 
theories,"  she  said  to  herself. 

"  Mrs.  Dunlap,"  he  resumed,  "  since  you 
have  been  frank  with  me,  I  must  be  equally 
frank  with  you.  I  think  you  are  far  too  sensible 
a  woman  not  to  understand  in  just  what  a 
peculiar  position  my  wife  has  placed  me." 

He  had  taken  out  of  his  pocket  a  few  sheets 
of  closely  typewritten  tissue  paper.  He  did  not 
look  at  them.  Evidently  he  knew  the  contents 
by  heart.  Constance  did  not  need  to  be  told 
that  this  was  a  sheaf  of  the  daily  reports  of  the 
agency  for  which  Drummond  worked. 

He  paused.  She  had  been  watching  him 
searchingly.  She  was  determined  not  to  let  him 
justify  himself  first. 

11  Mr.    Caswell,"    she    persisted   in   a   low, 


170  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

earnest  tone,  "  don't  be  so  sure  that  there  is 
nothing  in  this  dream  business.  Before  you 
read  me  those  reports  from  Mr.  Drummond,  let 
me  finish. ' ' 

Forest  Caswell  almost  dropped  them  in  sur 
prise. 

"  Dreams,"  she  continued,  seeing  her  ad 
vantage,  *  *  are  wishes,  either  suppressed  or  ex 
pressed.  Sometimes  the  dream  is  frank  and 
shows  an  expressed  wish.  Other  times  it  shows 
a  suppressed  wish,  or  a  wish  which  in  its  fulfil 
ment  in  the  dream  is  disguised  or  distorted. 

"  You  are  the  cause  of  your  wife's  dreams. 
She  feels  in  them  anxiety.  And,  according  to 
the  modern  psychologists  who  have  studied 
dreams  carefully  and  scientifically,  fear  and 
anxiety  represent  love  repressed  or  sup 
pressed." 

She  paused  to  emphasize  the  point,  glad  to 
not0  that  he  was  following  her. 

"  That  clairvoyant,"  she  went  on,  "  has 
found  out  the  truth.  True,  it  may  not  have  been 
the  part  of  wisdom  for  Mildred  to  have  gone  to 
her  in  the  first  place.  I  pass  over  that.  I  do 
not  know  whether  you  or  she  was  most  to  blame 
at  the  start.  But  that  woman,  in  the  guise  of 
being  her  friend,  has  played  on  every  string  of 
your  wife 's  lonely  heart,  which  you  have  wrung 
until  it  vibrates. 


THE  CLAIRVOYANTS  171 

"  Then,"  she  hastened  on,  "  came  your 
precious  friend  Drummond,  Drummond  who 
has,  no  doubt,  told  you  a  pack  of  lies  about  me. 
You  see  that?  ' 

She  had  flung  down  on  the  :able  a  cigarette 
which  she  had  managed  to  get  at  Madame  Cas 
sandra  ?s. 

"  Smoke  it." 

He  lighted  it  gingerly,  took  a  puff  or  two, 
puckered  his  face,  frowned,  and  rubbed  the 
lighted  end  on  the  fireplace  to  extinguish  it. 

"  What  is  it?  "  he  asked  suspiciously. 

' '  Hashish, ' '  she  answered  tersely.  ' '  Things 
were  not  going  fast  enough  to  suit  either 
Madame  Cassandra  or  Drummond.  Madame 
Cassandra  helped  along  the  dreams  by  a  drug 
noted  for  its  effect  on  the  passions.  More  than 
that,"  added  Constance,  leaning  over  toward 
him  and  catching  his  eye,  "  Madame  Cassandra 
was  working  in  league  with  a  broker,  as  so  many 
of  the  fakers  do.  Drummond  knew  it,  whether 
he  told  you  the  truth  about  it  or  not.  That 
broker  was  a  swindler  named  Davies." 

She  was  watching  the  effect  on  him.  She  saw 
that  he  had  been  reserving  this  for  a  last  shot 
at  her,  that  he  realized  she  had  stolen  his  own 
ammunition  and  appropriated  it  to  herself. 

"  They  were  only  too  glad  when  Drummond 
approached  them.  There  you  are,  three  against 


172  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

that  poor  little  woman — no,  four,  including 
yourself.  Perhaps  she  was  foolish.  But  it  was 
not  so  much  to  her  discredit  as  to  those  who 
cast  her  adrift  when  she  had  a  natural  right  to 
protection.  Hei3  was  a  woman  with  passions 
which  she  herself  did  not  understand,  and  a 
little  money — alone.  Her  case  appealed  to  me. 
I  knew  her  dreams.  I  studied  them." 

Caswell  was  listening  in  amazement.  "  It  is 
dangerous  to  be  with  a  person  who  pays  atten 
tion  to  such  little  things,"  he  said. 

Evidently  Drummond  himself  must  have  been 
listening.  The  door  buzzer  sounded  and  he 
stepped  in,  perhaps  to  bolster  up  his  client  in 
case  he  should  be  weakening. 

As  he  met  Constance's  eye  he  smiled  super 
ciliously  and  was  about  to  speak.  But  she  did 
not  give  him  time  even  to  say  good  evening. 

"  Ask  him,"  she  cried,  her  eyes  flashing,  for 
she  realized  that  it  had  been  part  of  the  plan 
to  confront  her,  perhaps  worm  out  of  her  just 
enough  to  confirm  Drummond 's  own  story  to 
Caswell,  "  ask  him  to  tell  the  truth — if  he  is 
capable  of  it — not  the  truth  that  will  make  a 
good  daily  report  of  a  hired  shadow  who  colors 
his  report  the  way  he  thinks  his  client  desires 
it,  but  the  real  truth." 

"  Mr.  Caswell,"  interrupted  Drummond. 
"  this  woman " 


THE  CLAIRVOYANTS  173 

"  Mr.  Drummond, "  cried  Constance,  rising 
and  shaking  the  burnt  stub  of  the  little  gold- 
banded  cigarette  at  him  to  impress  it  on  his 
mind,  "  Mr.  Drummond,  I  don't  care  whether 
I  am  a — a  she-devil  " — she  almost  hissed  the 
words  at  him — "  but  I  have  evidence  enough 
to  go  before  the  district  attorney  of  this  city 
and  the  grand  jury  and  get  indictments  for  con 
spiracy  against  a  certain  clairvoyant  and  a 
bucket  shop  operator.  To  save  themselves,  they 
will  probably  tell  all  they  know  about  a  certain 
crook  who  has  been  using  them. ' ' 

Caswell  looked  at  her,  amazed  at  her  de 
nunciation  of  the  detective.  As  for  Drummond, 
he  turned  his  back  on  her  as  if  to  ignore  her 
utterly. 

11  Mr.  Caswell,"  he  said  bitterly,  "  in  those 
reports " 

"  Forest  Caswell,"  insisted  Constance,  ris 
ing  and  facing  him,  *  *  if  you  have  in  that  heart 
of  yours  one  shred  of  manhood  it  should  move 
you.  You — this  man — the  others — have  placed 
in  the  path  of  a  woman  every  provocation,  every 
temptation  for  financial,  physical,  and  moral 
ruin.  She  has  consulted  a  clairvoyant — yes. 
She  has  speculated — yes.  Yet  she  was  proof 
against  something  greater  than  that.  And  I 
know — because  I  know  her  unconscious  self 


174  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

which  her  dreams  reveal,  her  inmost  soul — I 
know  her  better  than  you  do,  better  than  she 
does  herself.  I  know  that  even  now  she  is  as 
good  and  true  and  would  be  as  loving  as — " 

Constance  had  paused  and  taken  a  step  to 
ward  the  drawing  room.  Before  she  knew  it, 
the  portieres  flew  apart  and  an  eager  little  wo 
man  had  rushed  past  her  and  flung  her  arms 
about  the  neck  of  the  man. 

Caswell 's  features  were  working,  as  he  gently 
disengaged  her  arms,  still  keeping  one  hand. 
Half  shoving  her  aside,  ignoring  Constance,  he 
had  faced  Drummond.  For  a  moment  the 
brazen  detective  flinched. 

As  he  did  so,  deForest  Caswell  crumpled  up 
the  mass  of  tissue  paper  reports  and  flung  them 
into  the  fireplace. 

"  Get  out!  "  he  said,  suppressing  his  voice 
with  difficulty.  ' '  Send  me — your  bill.  I  '11  pay 
it — but,  mind,  if  it  is  one  penny  more  than  it 
should  be,  I'll — I'll  fight  if  it  takes  me  from 
the  district  attorney  and  the  grand  jury  to  the 
highest  court  of  the  State.  Now — go !  ' ' 

Caswell  turned  slowly  again  toward  his 
wife. 

11  IVe  been  a  brute,"  he  said  simply. 

Something  almost  akin  to  jealousy  rose  in 
Constance's  heart  as  she  saw  Mildred,  safe  at 
last 


THE  CLAIEVOYANTS  175 

Then  Caswell  turned  slowly  to  her.  "  You," 
he  said,  stroking  his  wife's  hand  gently  but 
looking  at  Constance,  "  you  are  a  real  clairvoy 
ant." 


CHAPTER  VH 

THE  PLUNGERS 

"  THEY  have  the  most  select  clientele  in  the 
city  here." 

Constance  Dunlap  was  sitting  in  the  white 
steamy  room  of  Charmant's  Beauty  Shop.  Her 
informant,  reclining  dreamily  in  a  luxurious 
wicker  chair,  bathed  in  the  perspiring  vapor, 
had  evidently  taken  a  fancy  to  her. 

"  And  no  wonder,  either;  they  fix  you  up  so 
well,"  she  rattled  on;  then  confidingly,  "  Now, 
last  night  after  the  show  a  party  of  us  went  to 
supper  and  a  dance — and  it  was  in  the  wee  small 
hours  when  we  broke  up.  But  Madame  here 
can  make  you  all  over  again.  Floretta,"  she 
called  to  an  attendant  who  had  entered,  *  *  if  Mr. 
Warrington  calls  up  on  the  'phone,  say  I'll  call 
him  later. ' ' 

"  Yes,  Miss  Larue." 

Constance  glanced  up  quickly  as  Floretta 
mentioned  the  name  of  the  popular  young 
actress.  Stella  Larue  was  a  pretty  girl  on 

176 


THE  PLUNGERS  177 

whom  the  wild  dissipation  of  the  night  life  of 
New  York  was  just  beginning  to  show  its  effects. 
The  name  of  Warrington,  too,  recalled  to  Con 
stance  instantly  some  gossip  she  had  heard  in 
Wall  Street  about  the  disagreement  in  the  board 
of  directors  of  the  new  Rubber  Syndicate  and 
the  effort  to  oust  the  president  whose  escapades 
were  something  more  than  mere  whispers  of 
scandal 

This  was  the  woman  in  the  case.  Constance 
looked  at  Stella  jiow  with  added  interest  as  she 
rose  languidly,  drew  her  bathrobe  about  her 
superb  figure  carelessly  in  such  a  way  as  to 
show  it  at  best  advantage. 

"  I've  had  more  or  less  to  do  with  Wall  Street 
myself,"  observed  Constance. 

"  Oh,  have  you?  Isn't  that  interesting," 
cried  Stella. 

"  I  hope  you're  not  putting  money  in  Rub 
ber?  "  queried  Constance. 

"  On  the  contrary,"  rippled  Stella,  then 
added,  "  You're  going  to  stay?  Let  me  tell  you 
something.  Have  Floretta  do  your  hair.  She's 
the  best  here.  Then  come  around  to  see  me  in 
the  dormitory  if  I'm  here  when  you  are 
through,  won't  you?  " 

Constance  promised  and  Stella  fluttered  away 
like  the  pretty  butterfly  that  she  was,  leaving 
Constance  to  wonder  at  the  natural  gravita- 


178  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

tion  of  plungers  in  the  money  market  toward 
plungers  in  the  white  lights. 

Charmant's  Beauty  Parlor  was  indeed  all  its 
name  implied,  a  temple  of  the  cult  of  adorn 
ment,  the  last  cry  in  the  effort  to  satisfy  what 
is  more  than  health,  wealth,  and  happiness  to 
some  women — the  fundamental  feminine  in 
stinct  for  beauty. 

Constance  had  visited  the  beauty  specialist 
to  have  an  incipient  wrinkle  smoothed  out. 
Frankly,  it  was  not  vanity.  But  she  had  come 
to  realize  that  her  greatest  asset  was  her  per 
sonal  appearance.  Once  that  had  a  chance  to 
work,  her  native  wit  and  keen  ability  would 
carry  her  to  success. 

Madame  Charmant  herself  was  a  tall,  dark- 
skinned,  dark-haired,  dark-eyed,  well-groomed 
woman  who  looked  as  if  she  had  been  stamped 
from  a  die  for  a  fashion  plate — and  then  the 
die  had  been  thrown  away.  All  others  like  her 
were  spurious  copies,  counterfeits.  More  than 
that,  she  affected  the  name  of  Vera,  which  in 
itself  had  the  ring  of  truth. 

And  so  Charmant  had  prevailed  on  Con 
stance  to  take  a  full  course  in  beautification  and 
withhold  the  wrinkle  at  the  source. 

11  Besides,  you  know,  my  dear,"  she  purred, 
"  there's  nothing  discovered  by  the  greatest 
minds  of  the  age  that  we  don't  apply  at  once." 


THE  PLUNGERS  179 

Constance  was  not  impervious  to  feminine 
reason,  and  here  she  was. 

"  Has  Miss  Larue  gone?  "  she  asked  when 
at  last  she  was  seated  in  a  comfortable  chair 
again  sipping  a  little  aromatic  cup  of  coffee. 

"  No,  she's  resting  in  one  of  the  little  dress 
ing  rooms." 

She  followed  Floretta  down  the  corridor. 
Each  little  compartment  had  its  neat,  plain 
white  enameled  bed,  a  dresser  and  a  chair. 

Stella  smiled  as  Constance  entered.  "  Yes," 
she  murmured  in  response  to  the  greeting,  "  I 
feel  quite  myself  now." 

"  Mr.  Warrington  on  the  wire,"  announced 
Floretta  a  moment  later,  coming  down  the  cor 
ridor  again  with  a  telephone  on  a  long  unwind 
ing  wire. 

"  Hello,  Alfred — oh,  rocky  this  morning," 
Constance  overheard.  "  I  said  to  myself, 
*  Never  again — until  the  next  time.  Vera  ?  Oh, 
she  was  as  fresh  as  a  lark.  Can  I  lunch  with 
you  downtown?  Of  course.'  Then  as  she 
hung  up  the  receiver  she  called,  i  l  Floretta,  get 
me  a  taxi." 

"  Yes,  Miss  Larue." 

"  I  always  have  a  feeling  here,"  whispered 
Stella, ' '  that  I  am  being  listened  to.  I  mean  to 
speak  to  Vera  about  it  some  time.  By  the  way, 
wouldn't  you  like  to  join  us  to-night?  Vera  will 


180  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

be  along  and  Mr.  Warrington  and  perhaps 
4  Diamond  Jack  '  Braden — you  know  him?  " 

Constance  confessed  frankly  that  she  did  not 
have  the  pleasure  of  the  acquaintance  of  the 
well-known  turfman  and  first  nighter. 

She  hesitated.  Perhaps  it  was  that  that 
Stella  liked.  Almost  any  one  else  would  have 
been  overeager  to  accept.  But  to  Constance, 
sure  of  herself  now,  nothing  of  the  sort  was 
worth  scrambling  for.  Besides,  she  was  won 
dering  how  a  man  with  the  fight  of  his  life  on 
his  hands  could  find  time  to  lunch  downtown 
even  with  Stella. 

"  I've  taken  quite  a  fancy  to  you,"  pressed 
Stella. 

"  Thank  you,  it's  very  kind  of  you,"  Con 
stance  answered.  ' '  I  shall  try  very  hard  to  be 
there." 

"  I'll  leave  a  box  for  you  at  the  office.  Come 
around  after  the  performance  to  my  dressing 
room. ' ' 

"  Miss  Larue,  your  taxi's  waiting,"  an 
nounced  Floretta. 

"  Thanks.  Are  you  going  now,  Mrs.  Dunlap? 
Yes  ?  Then  ride  down  in  the  elevator  with  me. ' ' 

They  parted  at  the  foot  of  the  elevator  and 
Constance  walked  through  the  arcade  of  the 
office  building  in  which  the  beauty  parlor  oo- 


THE  PLUNGERS  181 

eupied  the  top  floor.  She  stopped  at  a  florist's 
stand  to  admire  the  flowers,  but  more  for  an 
excuse  to  look  back  at  Stella. 

As  Stella  stepped  into  a  taxicab,  showing  a 
generous  wealth  of  silken  hosiery  beneath  the 
tango  gown,  Constance  was  aware  that  the 
driver  of  another  cab  across  the  street  was  also 
interested.  She  noticed  that  he  turned  and 
spoke  to  his  fare  through  the  open  window. 

The  cab  swung  around  to  follow  the  other  and 
Constance  caught  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  a 
familiar  face. 

"  Drummond,"  she  exclaimed  almost  aloud. 

What  did  it  mean?  Why  had  the  detective 
been  employed  to  follow  Stella?  Instinctively 
she  concluded  that  he  must  be  engaged  by  Mrs. 
Warrington. 

11  I  must  accept  Stella's  invitation, "  she  said 
to  herself  excitedly.  "  At  least,  she  should  be 
put  on  her  guard. ' ' 

That  evening,  as  she  was  looking  over  the 
newspapers,  her  eye  caught  the  item  in  the 
Wall  Street  edition : 

RUBBER  SYNDICATE  DISSENSION 

Break    in    Stock    Follows    Effort    of    Strong 

Minority  to  Oust  Warrington  from 

Presidency 


182  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

Then  followed  a  brief  account  of  the  struggle 
of  a  powerful  group  of  directors  to  force  War- 
rington,  Braden,  and  the  rest  out,  with  a  hint 
at  the  scandal  of  which  every  one  now  was  talk 
ing. 

11  I  never  yet  knew  a  man  who  went  in  for 
that  sort  of  thing  that  lasted  long  in  business," 
she  observed.  "  This  is  my  chance — a  crowd 
riding  for  a  fall. ' ' 

Constance  chose  a  modest  orchestra  seat  in 
preference  to  the  place  in  a  box  which  Stella 
had  reserved  for  her  at  the  office,  and,  aside 
from  the  purpose  which  was  rapidly  taking 
shape  in  her  mind,  she  enjoyed  the  play  very 
much.  Stella  Larue,  as  the  "  Grass  Widow," 
played  her  part  with  a  piquancy  which  Con 
stance  knew  was  not  wholly  a  matter  of  book 
knowledge. 

As  the  curtain  went  down,  the  audience,  its 
appetite  for  the  risque  whetted,  filed  out  on 
Broadway  with  its  myriad  lights  and  continuous 
film  of  motion.  Constance  made  her  way 
around  to  Stella's  dressing  room. 

She  had  scarcely  been  welcomed  by  Stella, 
whose  cheeks  beneath  the  grease  paint  were  now 
genuinely  ablaze  with  excitement,  when  a  man 
entered.  He  was  tall,  spare,  the  type  whose 


THE  PLUNGERS  183 

very  bow  is  ingratiating  and  whose  ' '  delighted, 

I  assure  you  ' '  is  suave  and  compelling. 
Alfred  Warrington  seemed  to  be  on  very  good 

terms  indeed  with  Stella  as  she  introduced  him 
to  Constance. 

"  You  will  join  us,  Mrs.  Dunlap?  "  he  asked, 
throwing  an  opera  cloak  over  Stella 's  shoulders. 

I 1  Vera  Charmant  and  Jack  Braden  are  waiting 
for  us  at  the  Little  Montmartre." 

As  he  mentioned  the  famous  cabaret,  Con 
stance  took  a  little  tighter  grip  on  herself  and 
decided  to  take  the  plunge  and  see  the  affair  out, 
although  that  sort  of  thing  had  very  little  attrac 
tion  for  her. 

They  were  leaving  the  theater  when  she  saw 
lurking  in  the  crowd  the  familiar  figure  of 
Drummond.  She  turned  her  head  quickly  and 
sank  back  into  the  dark  recesses  of  the  li 
mousine. 

Should  she  tell  them  now  about  him? 

She  leaned  over  to  Warrington.  "  I  saw  a 
man  in  the  crowd  just  now  who  seemed  to 
be  quite  interested  in  us,"  she  said  quickly. 
"  Can't  we  drive  around  a  bit  to  throw  him  off 
if  he  should  get  into  a  cab  ?  ' 

Warrington  looked  at  her  keenly.  It  was 
quite  evident  that  he  thought  it  was  Constance 
who  was  being  followed,  not  Stella  or  himself. 
Constance  decided  quickly  to  say  nothing  more 

13 


184  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

that  would  prejudice  Stella,  but  as  Warrington 
directed  liis  driver  to  run  up  through  the  park 
she  saw  that,  far  from  alarming  him,  the  words 
had  only  added  a  zest  of  mystery  about  herself. 

They  left  the  Park  and  the  car  jolted  them 
quickly  now  over  the  uneven  asphalt  to  the 
palace  of  pleasure,  where  already  the  two  ad 
vance  guards  were  holding  one  of  the  best 
tables  in  a  house  crowded  with  all  classes  from 
debutantes  to  debauchees. 

"  Diamond  Jack  "  Braden  was  a  heavy-set 
man  with  a  debonnaire,  dapper  way  about  him. 
He  wore  a  flower  in  his  buttonhole,  a  smart 
touch  which  seemed  very  fetching,  evidently,  to 
the  artistic  Vera. 

Constance  fell  to  studying  him,  as  she  did  all 
men  and  women.  "  His  hands  betray  him," 
she  said  to  herself,  as  she  was  introduced. 

They  were  in  fact  shielded  from  view  as  he 
bowed,  one  with  the  thumb  tucked  in  the  corner 
of  his  trousers  pocket,  the  other  behind  his 
back. 

11  He  is  hiding  something,"  flashed  through 
her  mind  intuitively.  And,  when  she  analyzed 
it,  she  felt  still  that  there  was  nothing  fanciful 
about  the  idea.  It  was  simply  a  little  uncon 
scious  piece  of  evidence. 

From  the  start  the  cabaret  was  pretty  rapid. 


THE  PLUNGERS  185 

When  they  entered,  two  of  the  performers 
were  rendering  the  Apache  dance  with  an 
abandon  that  improved  on  its  namesake. 
Scarcely  had  they  finished  when  the  orchestra 
began  all  over  again,  and  a  couple  of  diners 
from  the  tables  glided  past  them  on  the  danc 
ing  floor,  then  another  couple  and  another. 

"  Tanguez-vous  I  "  bowed  Braden,  leaning 
over  to  Stella. 

11  Oui,  je  tanguerai,"  she  nodded,  catching 
the  spirit  of  the  place. 

It  left  Warrington  and  Constance  at  the 
table  with  Vera,  and  as  Constance  looked 
eagerly  after  the  graceful  form  of  the  little 
actress,  Warrington  asked,  "  Will  yon  dance!  " 

"  No,  thank  you,"  she  said,  trying  him  out. 
"  I  haven't  had  time  to  learn  these  new  steps. 
And,  besides,  I  have  had  a  bad  day  in  the 
market.  Steel,  Reading,  everything  is  off.  Not 
that  I  have  lost  much — but  it's  what  I  haven't 
made. ' ' 

Warrington,  who  had  been  about  to  repeat 
his  question  to  Vera,  turned  suddenly.  This 
was  something  new  to  him,  to  meet  a  woman 
like  Constance.  If  she  knew  about  other 
stocks,  she  must  know  about  the  Syndicate. 
Already  he  had  felt  an  attraction  toward  Con 
stance  physically,  an  attraction  of  maturity 
which  somehow  or  other  seemed  more  satisfy* 


186  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

ing,  at  least  novel,  in  contrast  with  the  gay 
butterfly  talk  of  Stella. 

He  did  not  ask  Vera  to  dance.  Instead  he 
began  banteringly  to  discuss  Wall  Street  and 
in  five  minutes  he  found  out  that  she  really 
knew  as  much  about  certain  features  of  the 
game  as  he  did.  She  did  not  need  to  be  told 
that  Alfred  Warrington,  plunger,  man  about 
town,  was  quite  unexpectedly  struck  by  her 
personality. 

Now  and  then  she  could  see  Stella  eyeing  her 
covertly.  The  little  actress  had  had,  like  many 
another,  a  few  dollars  to  invest  or  rather  with 
which  to  speculate.  Her  method  had  been 
usually  to  make  a  quick  profit  on  a  tip  from 
some  Wall  Street  friend.  Often,  if  the  tip  went 
wrong,  the  friend  would  return  the  money  to 
the  unsuspecting  little  girl,  with  some  muttered 
apology  about  having  been  unable  to  get  it 
placed  in  time,  and  then,  as  the  market  went 
down  or  up,  seeing  that  it  was  too  late,  adding 
a  congratulation  that  at  least  the  principal  was 
saved  if  there  was  no  profit. 

The  little  actress  was  plainly  piqued.  She 
saw,  though  she  did  not  understand,  that  Con 
stance  was  a  different  kind  of  plunger  from 
what  she  had  thought  at  first  up  at  Charmant's. 
Instead  of  trying  to  compete  with  Constance 


THE  PLUNGERS  187 

in  her  field,  she  redoubled  her  efforts  in  her 
own.  Was  Warrington,  a  live  spender,  to  slip 
through  her  grasp  for  a  chance  acquaint 
ance! 

Another  dance.  This  time  it  was  Stella  and 
Warrington.  Braden,  who  had  served  excel 
lently  as  a  foil  to  lead  Warrington  on  when  he 
had  eyes  for  no  one  else,  not  even  Vera,  was  left 
severely  alone.  Nothing  was  said,  not  an  action 
done  openly,  but  Constance,  woman-like,  could 
feel  the  contest  in  the  air.  And  she  felt  just  a 
little  quiver  when  they  sat  down  and  Warring- 
ton  resumed  the  conversation  with  her  where 
he  had  left  it.  Even  the  daring  cut  of  Stella's 
gown  and  the  exaggerated  proximity  of  her 
dainty  person  had  failed  this  time. 

As  they  chatted  gaily,  Constance  enjoyed  her 
triumph  to  the  full.  Yes,  she  could  see  that 
Stella  was  violently  jealous.  But  she  intended 
that  she  should  be.  That  was  now  a  part  of  her 
plan  as  it  shaped  itself  in  her  mind,  since  she 
had  plunged  or,  perhaps  better,  had  been 
dragged  into  the  game. 

As  the  evening  wore  on  and  the  dancing  be 
came  more  furious,  Warrington  seemed  to,  catch 
the  spirit  of  recklessness  that  was  in  the  very 
air.  He  talked  more  recklessly,  once  in  a  while 
with  a  bitterness  not  aimed  at  any  one  in 
particular,  which  passed  among  the  others  as 


188  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

blase  sarcasm  of  one  who  had  seen  much  and  to 
whom  even  the  fastest  was  slow. 

But  to  Constance,  as  she  tried  to  fathom  him, 
it  presented  an  entirely  different  interpretation. 
For  example,  she  asked  herself,  why  had  he 
been  so  ready,  apparently,  to  transfer  his  in 
terest  from  Stella  t  Was  it  because,  having  cut 
loose  from  the  one  feminine  tie  that  morally 
bound  him,  he  no  longer  felt  any  restraint  in 
cutting  loose  from  others?  Was  it  the  same 
spirit  that  had  carried  him  on  in  the  money 
game,  having  cut  loose  from  one  financial  prin 
ciple,  to  let  all  go  and  to  guide  his  course  as 
close  to  the  edge  of  things  as  he  dared!  There 
had  been  the  same  reckless  bravado  in  the  way 
he  had  urged  on  the  driver  of  his  car  in  the 
wild  ride  of  the  earlier  evening,  violating  the 
speed  laws  yet  succeeding  in  escaping  the  traffic 
squad. 

Warrington  was  a  plunger.  Yet  there  was 
something  about  him  that  was  different  from 
others  she  had  seen.  Perhaps  it  was  that  he 
had  a  conscience,  even  though  he  had  succeeded 
in  detaching  himself  from  it. 

And  Stella.  There  was  something  different 
about  her,  too.  Constance  more  than  once  was 
on  the  point  of  revising  her  estimate  of  the 
little  actress.  Was  she,  after  all,  wholly 


THE  PLUNGERS  189 

mercenary  in  her  attitude  toward  Warrington? 
Was  he  merely  a  live  spender  whom  she  could 
not  afford  to  lose  ?  Or  was  she  merely  a  beauti 
ful,  delicate  creature  caught  in  the  merciless 
maelstrom  of  the  life  into  which  she  had  been 
thrown?  Did  she  realize  the  perilous  position 
this  all  was  placing  her  in? 

They  were  among  the  last  to  leave  and  Vera 
and  Braden  offered  to  take  Constance  to  her 
apartment  in  Braden 's  car,  while  Stella  con 
trived  prettily  to  take  so  much  of  Warrington's 
time  with  the  wraps  that  by  the  time  they  were 
ready  to  go  the  manner  of  the  breaking  up  of 
the  party  was  as  she  wanted  it.  In  her  final 
triumph  she  could  not  help  just  an  extra  in 
flection  on,  "  I  hope  I'll  see  you  again  at  Vera's 
soon,  my  dear." 

All  night,  or  at  least  all  that  was  left  of  it, 
Constance  tried  to  straighten  out  the  whirl  of 
her  thoughts.  With  the  morning  she  had  an 
idea.  Now,  in  a  moment  when  the  exhilaration 
of  the  gay  life  was  at  low  ebb,  she  must  see 
Stella. 

It  was  early  yet,  but  Stella  was  not  at  her 
hotel  when  Constance  cautiously  called  up  the 
office  to  find  out.  Where  was  she?  Constance 
drove  around  to  Charmant's  on  the  chance  that 
she  might  be  there.  Vera  greeted  her  a  trifle 


190  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

coldly,  she  thought,  but  then  this  was  not  mid 
night  at  the  Montmartre.  No,  Stella  was  not 
there,  she  said,  but  nevertheless  Constance  de 
cided  to  wait. 

"  I  'm  all  unstrung, ' '  confided  Constance,  with 
an  assumed  air  of  languor,  as  she  dropped  into 
a  chair. 

Charmant,  as  fresh  as  if  she  had  just  emerged 
from  the  proverbial  bandbox,  nodded  know 
ingly.  "  A  Turkish  bath,  massage,  something 
to  tone  you  up, ' '  she  advised. 

With  alert  eyes  Constance  went  patiently 
through  the  process  of  freshening,  first  in  the 
steamy  hot  room  where  she  had  met  Stella  the 
day  before,  then  the  deliciously  cool  shower, 
gentle  massage,  and  all  the  rest. 

At  one  of  the  little  white  tables  of  the  mani 
cures  she  noticed  a  pretty,  rather  sad-faced 
little  woman.  There  was  something  about  her 
that  attracted  Constance's  attention,  although 
she  could  not  have  told  exactly  what  it  was. 

"  You  know  her!  "  whispered  Floretta, 
bursting  with  excitement.  "No?  Why, — " 
and  here  she  paused  and  dropped  her  voice  even, 
lower, — "  that's  Mrs.  Warrington." 

"  Not  the—" 

"  Yes,"  she  nodded,  "  his  wife.  You  know, 
she  conies  here  twice  a  week.  We  have  to  do 
some  tall  scheming  to  keep  them  apart.  No,  it's 


THE  PLUNGERS  191 

not  vanity,  either.     It's — well — you  see,  she's 
trying  to  get  him  back,  to  look  like  a  sport. ' ' 

Constance  thought  of  the  hopeless  fight  so  far 
which  the  little  woman  was  waging  to  keep  up 
with  the  dashing  actress.  Then  she  thought  of 
Warrington,  of  last  night,  of  how  he  had  sought 
her,  so  ready,  it  seemed,  to  leave  even  the 
"  other  woman."  Then  Floretta's  remark  re 
peated  itself  mechanically.  "  We  have  to  do 
some  tall  scheming  to  keep  them  apart. ' '  Was 
Stella  here,  after  all  ? 

Mrs.  Warrington  was  not  a  bad  looking  wo 
man  and  in  fact  it  was  difficult  to  see  how  she 
expected  to  be  improved  by  cosmetics  that 
would  lighten  her  complexion,  bleaches  that 
would  flaxen  her  hair,  tortures  for  this,  that, 
and  the  other  defect,  real  or  imagined. 

Now,  however,  she  was  a  creature  of  rein 
forcements,  from  her  puffy  masses  of  light  hair 
to  her  French  heels  and  embroidered  stockings 
that  showed  through  the  slash  in  the  drapery 
of  her  gown. 

Constance  felt  sorry  for  her,  deeply  sorry. 
The  whole  thing  seemed  not  in  keeping  with  her. 
She  was  a  home-maker,  not  a  butterfly.  Was 
Warrington  worth  it  all?  asked  Constance  of 
herself.  ' '  At  least  she  thinks  so, ' '  flashed  over 
her,  as  Mrs.  Warrington  rose,  and  left  the  room, 


192  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

watchfully  guided  by  Floretta  to  the  next  pro 
cess  in  her  course  in  beautification. 

Constance  sank  back  luxuriously  on  the  cush 
ions  of  her  chaise  longue.  She  longed  to  ex 
plore  the  beauty  parlor,  to  leave  the  rest  room 
and  go  down  the  narrow  corridor,  prying  into 
the  secrets  of  the  little  dressing  rooms  that 
opened  into  it.  What  did  they  conceal?  Why 
had  Vera  seemed  so  distant  ?  Was  it  the  natural 
reaction  of  the  *  *  morning  after, ' '  or  was  Stella 
really  there  and  was  she  keeping  her  away  from 
Mrs.  Warrington  to  prevent  friction  between 
two  clients  that  would  have  been  annoying  to 
all? 

She  could  reach  no  conclusion,  except  that 
there  was  a  feeling  of  luxurious  well-being  as 
she  lolled  back  into  the  deep  recesses  of  the 
lounge  in  the  corner  of  the  room  separated  from 
the  next  room  by  a  thin  board  partition. 

Suddenly  her  attention  was  arrested  by 
muffled  voices  on  the  other  side  of  the  partition. 
She  strained  her  ears.  She  could  not,  of  course, 
see  the  speakers,  or  even  recognize  their  voices, 
but  they  were  a  man  and  a  woman. 

1 1  We  must  get  the  thing  settled  right  away, ' ' 
she  overheard  the  man's  voice.  "  You  see  how 
he  is?  Every  new  face  attracts  him.  See  how 
he  took  to  that  new  one  last  night.  Who  knows 


THE  PLUNGERS  193 

what  may  happen?  By  and  by  some  one  may 
come  along  and  spoil  all.'* 

"  Couldn't  we  use  her?  "  asked  the  woman. 

11  No,  you  can't  use  that  woman.  She's  too 
clever.  But  we  must  do  something,  right  away 
— to-night  if  possible." 

A  pause.    "  How,  then?  " 

Another  pause  and  the  whispered  mono 
syllable/'  Dope!  " 

"  What?  " 

* '  I  have  it  here.  Use  a  dozen  of  them.  They 
can  be  snuffed  as  a  powder,  or  it  can  be  put  in 
a  drink.  If  you  want  more — see,  I  will  put  the 
bottle  on  this  shelf — 'way  back.  No  one  will 
see  it. ' ' 

"  Don't  you  think  I  ought  to  write  a  note, 
something  that  will  be  sure  to  get  him  up 
here?  " 

"  Yes — just  a  line  or  two — as  if  in  haste." 

There  was  a  sound  as  if  of  tearing  a  sheet 
of  note  paper  from  a  pad. 

"  Is  that  all  right?  " 

' '  Yes.  As  soon  as  the  market  closes.  There 
will  be  nothing  done  to-day.  To-morrow's  the 
day.  To-night  we  must  get  him  going  and  in 
the  meantime  a  meeting  will  be  held,  the  plan, 
arranged  at  the  Prince  Henry  to-night — and 
then  the  smash.  Between  them  all,  he  won't 
know  what  has  struck  him. '  * 


194  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

"  All  right.  You  had  better  go  out  as  you 
came  in.  It 's  better  that  no  one  up  here  should 
suspect  anything." 

The  voices  ceased. 

What  did  it  mean?  Constance  rose  and 
sauntered  around  into  the  next  room.  It  was 
empty,  but  when  she  looked  hastily  up  on  the 
shelf  there  was  a  bottle  of  wrhite  tablets  and  on 
a  table  a  pad  of  note  paper  from  which  a  sheet 
had  been  torn. 

She  picked  up  the  bottle  gingerly.  Who  had 
touched  it?  Her  mind  was  working  quickly. 
Somewhere  she  had  read  of  finger  prints  and 
the  subject  had  interested  her  because  the 
system  had  been  introduced  in  banks  and  she 
saw  that  it  was  going  to  become  more  and  more 
important. 

But  how  did  they  get  them  in  a  case  like  this  ? 
She  had  read  of  some  powrder  that  adhered  to 
the  marks  left  by  the  sweat  glands  of  the 
fingers.  There  was  the  talcum  powder.  Per 
haps  it  would  do. 

Quickly  she  shook  the  box  gently  over  the 
glass.  Then  she  blew  it  off  carefully. 

Clear,  sharp,  distinct,  there  were  the  im 
prints  of  fingers ! 

But  the  paper.  Talcum  powder  would  not 
bring  them  out  on  that.  It  must  be  something 
black. 


THE  PLUNGERS  195 

A  lead  pencil !  Eagerly  she  seized  it  and  with 
a  little  silver  pen-knife  whittled  off  the  wood. 
Scrape !  scrape !  until  she  had  a  neat  little  pile 
of  finely  powdered  graphite. 

Then  she  poured  it  on  the  paper  and  taking 
the  sheet  daintily  by  the  edges,  so  that  she 
would  not  mix  her  own  finger  prints  with  the 
others,  she  rolled  the  powder  back  and  forth. 
As  she  looked  anxiously  she  could  see  the  little 
grains  adhering  to  the  paper. 

A  fine  camel 's  hair  brush  lay  on  the  table,  for 
penciling.  She  took  it  deftly.  It  made  her 
think  of  that  first  time  when  she  painted  the 
checks  for  Carlton.  A  lump  came  into  her 
throat. 

There  they  were,  the  second  pair  of  telltale 
prints.  But  what  tale  did  they  tell?  Whose 
were  they? 

Her  reading  on  finger  prints  had  been  very 
limited  but,  like  everything  she  did,  to  the 
point.  She  studied  those  before  her,  traced  out 
as  best  she  could  the  loops,  whorls,  arches,  and 
composites,  even  counted  the  ridges  on  some  of 
them.  It  was  not  so  difficult,  after  all. 

She  stopped  in  an  uptown  branch  of  her 
brokers  in  one  of  the  hotels.  The  market  was 
very  quiet,  and  even  the  Eubber  Syndicate 
seemed  to  be  marking  time.  As  she  went  out 


196  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

she  passed  the  telephone  booths.  Should  she 
call  up  Warrington  ?  Would  he  misinterpret  it  ? 
What  if  he  did?  She  was  mistress  of  her  own 
tongue.  She  need  not  say  too  much.  Besides, 
if  she  were  going  on  a  fishing  expedition,  a  tele 
phone  line  was  as  good  as  any  other — better 
than  a  visit. 

"  This  is  Mrs.  Dunlap,"  she  said  directly. 

"  Oh,  how  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Dunlap.  I  have 
been  intending  to  call  you  up,  but, ' '  he  paused, 
and  added,  '  *  you  know  we  are  having  a  pretty 
strenuous  time  down  here." 

There  was  a  genuine  ring  to  the  first  part  of 
his  reply.  But  the  rest  of  it  trailed  off  into  the 
old  blase  tone. 

"  I'm  sorry,"  she  replied.  "  I  enjoyed  last 
night  so  much." 

"  Did  you?  "  came  back  eagerly. 

Before  he  could  add  anything  she  asked,  "  I 
suppose  you  are  going  to  see  Stella  again  this 
afternoon. '  ' 

"  Why — er — yes,"  he  hesitated.  "  I  think 
so." 

"  Where?  At  Vera's?  "  she  asked,  adopt 
ing  a  tone  not  of  curiosity  but  of  chiding  him 
for  seeing  Stella  instead  of  herself. 

The  moment  of  hesitation,  before  he  said  that 
lie  didn't  know,  told  her  the  truth.  It  was  as 
good  as  a  plain,  "  Yes." 


THE  PLUNGERS  197 

For  a  few  moments  they  chatted.  As  she 
hung  up  the  receiver  after  his  deferential  good 
bye,  Constance  knew  that  she  had  gained  a  new 
angle  from  which  to  observe  Warrington's 
character.  He  was  intensely  hnman  and  he  was 
'*  in  wrong."  Here  was  a  mess,  all  around. 

The  day  wore  on,  yet  brought  no  indecision 
as  to  what  she  would  do,  though  it  brought  no 
solution  as  to  how  to  do  it.  The  inaction  was 
worse  than  anything  else.  The  last  quotations 
had  come  in  over  the  ticker,  showing  the  Syn 
dicate  stocks  still  unchanged.  She  left  her 
brokers  and  sat  for  a  few  moments  in  the  ro 
tunda  of  the  hotel,  considering.  She  could 
stand  it  no  longer.  Whatever  happened,  she 
would  run  around  to  Charmant's.  Some  ex 
cuse  would  occur  when  she  got  there. 

As  Constance  alighted  from  the  private 
elevator,  a  delicate  scent  as  of  attar  of  roses 
smote  lightly  on  her,  and  there  was,  if  any 
thing,  a  greater  air  of  exotic  warmth  about  the 
place.  Everything,  from  the  electric  bulbs 
buried  deep  in  the  clusters  of  amber  artificial 
flowers  to  the  bright  green  leaves  on  the  dainty 
trellises,  the  little  square-paned  windows  and 
white  furniture,  bespoke  luxury.  There  was  an 
inviting  "  tone  "  to  it  all. 

11  I'm  glad  I've  found  you, "  began  Constance 


198  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

to  Stella,  as  though  nothing  had  happened. 
"  There  is  something  I'd  like  to  say  to  you  be 
sides  thanking  you  most  kindly  for  the  good 
time  last — " 

"  Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you?  "  in 
terrupted  Madame  Charmant  in  a  business-!'1^ 
tone.  ' '  I  am  sure  that  Miss  Larue  invited  you 
last  night  because  she  thought  you  were  lonely. 
She  and  Mr.  Wamngton,  you  know,  are  old 
friends. ' ' 

Charmant  emphasized  the  remark  to  mean, 
"  You  trespassed  on  forbidden  ground,  if  you 
thought  you  could  get  him  away. ' ' 

Constance  seemed  not  to  notice  the  implica 
tion. 

"  There  is  something  I'd  like  to  say,"  she 
repeated  gently. 

She  picked  up  a  little  inking  pad  which  lay 
on  a  mahogany  secretary  which  Vera  used  as 
an  office  desk. 

"  If  you  will  be  so  kind,  Stella,  as  to  place 
your  fingers  flat  on  this  pad — never  mind  about 
the  ink;  call  Floretta;  she  will  wipe  them  off 
afterwards — and  then  on  this  piece  of  paper, 
I  won 't  bother  you  further. ' ' 

Almost  before  she  knew  it,  the  little  actress 
had  placed  her  dainty  white  hand  on  the  pad 
and  then  on  the  paper. 

Constance  did  the  same,  to  illustrate,  then 


THE  PLUNGEKS  199 

called  Floretta.  "  If  Vera  will  do  as  I  have 
done,"  she  said,  offering  her  the  pad,  and  tak 
ing  her  hand.  Charmant  complied,  and  when 
Floretta  arrived  her  impressions  were  added 
to  the  others. 

"  There's  a  man  wishes  to  see  you,  outside, 
Madame,"  said  Floretta,  wiping  off  the  soiled 
finger  tips. 

"  Tell  him  to  wait — in  the  little  room." 

Floretta  opened  the  door  to  go  out  and 
through  it  Constance  caught  sight  of  a  familiar 
face. 

A  moment  later  the  man  was  in  the  room 
with  them.  It  was  Drummond,  the  same  sneer, 
the  same  assurance  in  his  manner. 

"  So,"  he  snarled  at  Constance.  "  You 
here?  " 

"  I  seem  to  be  here,"  she  answered  calmly. 
"  Why?  " 

"  Never  mind  why,"  he  blustered.  "  I  knew 
you  saw  me  the  other  night.  I  heard  you  tell 
'em  to  hit  it  up  so  as  to  shake  me.  But  I  found 
out  all  right." 

11  Found  out  what!  "  asked  Constance  coldly. 

"  Say,  that's  about  your  style,  isn't  it?  You 
always  get  in  when  it  comes  to  trimming  the 
good  spenders,  don't  you?  " 

"  Mr.  Drummond,"  she  replied,  "  I  don't 
care  to  talk  to  you. '  * 

14 


200  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

"  You  don't,  hey?  "Well,  perhaps,  when  the 
time  conies  you'll  have  to  talk.  How  about 
Tnat?  " 

She  was  thinking  rapidly.  Was  Mrs.  War- 
rington  preparing  to  strike  a  blow  that  would 
oe  the  last  impulse  necessary  to  send  the 
plunger  down  for  the  last  time?  She  decided 
to  take  a  chance,  to  temporize  until  some  one 
else  made  a  move. 

*'  I'd  thank  you  to  place  your  fingers  on  this 
pad,"  said  Constance  quietly.  "I'm  making 
a  collection  of  these  things. ' ' 

* '  You  are,  are  you  ?  ' ' 

"  Yes,"  she  cut  short.  "  And  if  my  collec 
tion  isn't  large  enough  I  shall  call  up  Mrs.  War- 
rington  and  ask  her  to  come  over,  too,"  she 
added  significantly. 

Floretta  entered  again.  "  Please  wipe  the 
ink  off  Mr.  Drummond's  fingers,"  ordered  Con 
stance  quietly,  still  holding  out  the  pad. 

* '  Confound  your  impudence, ' '  he  ground  out, 
seizing  the  pad.  '  *  There !  What  do  you  mean 
by  Mrs.  Warrington  ?  What  has  she  to  do  with 
this?  Have  a  care,  Mrs.  Dunlap — you're  on 
the  wrong  track  here,  and  going  the  wrong 
way." 

"  Mr.  Warrington  is — "  began  Floretta. 

"  Show    hi™    in — quick,"    demanded    Con- 


THE  PLUNGERS  201 

stance,  determined  to  bring  the  affair  to  a  show 
down  on  the  spot. 

As  the  door  swung  open,  Warrington  looked 
at  the  group  in  unfeigned  surprise. 

"  Mr.  Warrington,"  greeted  Constance  with 
out  giving  any  of  the  others  a  chance,  "  this 
morning,  I  heard  a  little  conversation  up  here. 
Floretta,  will  you  go  into  the  little  room,  and 
on  the  top  shelf  you  will  find  a  bottle.  Bring  it 
here  carefully.  I  have  a  sheet  of  paper,  also, 
which  I  am  going  to  show  you.  I  had  already 
seen  the  little  woman,  Mr.  Warrington,  whom 
you  have  treated  so  unjustly.  She  was  here 
trying  vainly  to  win  you  back  by  those  arts 
which  she  thinks  must  appeal  to  you. ' ' 

Floretta  returned  with  the  bottle  and  placed 
it  on  the  secretary  beside  Constance. 

' '  Some  one  took  some  tablets  from  this  bottle 
and  gave  them  to  some  one  else  who  wrote  on 
this  paper, ' '  she  resumed,  bending  first  over  the 
paper  she  had  torn  from  the  pad.  "  Ah,  a  loop 
with  twelve  ridges,  another  loop,  a  whorl,  a 
whorl,  a  loop.  The  marks  on  this  paper  cor 
respond  precisely  with  those  made  here  just 
now  by — Vera  Charmant  herself!  " 

"  You  get  out  of  here — quick,"  snarled 
Drummond,  placing  himself  between  the  now 
furious  Vera  and  Constance. 

"  One  minute,"   replied   Constance   calmly. 


202  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

11  I  am  sure  Mr.  Warrington  is  a  gentleman, 
if  you  are  not.  Perhaps  I  have  no  finger  prints 
to  correspond  with  those  on  the  bottle.  If  not, 
I  am  sure  that  we  can  send  for  some  one  whose 
prints  will  do  so." 

She  was  studying  the  bottle. 

"  The  other,  however,"  she  said  slowly  to 
conceal  her  own  surprise,  "  was  a  person  who 
has  been  set  to  trail  you  and  Stella,  Mr.  "War 
rington,  a  detective  named  Drummond!  " 

Suddenly  the  truth  flashed  over  her.  Drum 
mond  was  not  employed  by  Mrs.  Warrington  at 
all.  Then  by  whom1?  By  the  directors.  And 
the  rest  of  these  people?  Grafters  who  were 
using  Stella  to  bait  the  hook.  Braden  had  gone 
over  to  them,  had  aided  in  plunging  Warring- 
ton  into  the  wild  life  until  he  could  no  longer 
play  the  business  game  as  before.  Charmant 
was  his  confederate,  Drummond  his  witness. 

"  Stella,"  said  Constance,  turning  suddenly 
to  the  little  actress,  "  Stella,  they  are  using 
you,  '  Diamond  Jack  '  and  Vera,  using  you  to 
lead  him  on,  playing  the  game  of  the  minority 
of  the  directors  of  the  Syndicate  to  get  him 
out.  There  is  to  be  a  meeting  of  the  directors 
to-night  at  the  Prince  Henry.  He  was  to  be  in 
no  condition  to  go.  Are  you  willing  to  be  mixed 
up  in  such  a  scandal  ?  ' 

Stella  Larue  was  crying  into  a  lace  handker- 


THE  PLUNGERS  203 

chief.  "  You — you  are  all — against  me,"  she 
sobbed.  "  What  have  I  done!  " 

"  Nothing,"  soothed  Constance,  patting  her 
shoulder.  "  As  for  Charmant  and  Drummond, 
they  are  tied  by  these  proofs, ' '  she  added,  tap 
ping  the  papers  with  the  prints,  then  picking 
them  up  and  handing  them  to  Warrington.  '  *  I 
think  if  the  story  were  told  to  the  directors  at 
the  Prince  Henry  to-night  with  reporters  wait 
ing  downstairs  in  the  lobby,  it  might  produce  a 
quieting  effect." 

Warrington  was  speechless.  He  saw  them  all 
against  him,  Vera,  Braden,  Stella,  Drummond. 

11  More  than  that,"  added  Constance,  "  noth 
ing  that  you  can  ever  do  can  equal  the  patience, 
the  faith  of  the  little  woman  I  saw  here  to-day, 
slaving,  yes,  slaving  for  beauty.  Here  in  my 
hand,  in  these  scraps  of  paper,  I  hold  your  old 
life, — not  part  of  it,  but  all  of  it,"  she  em 
phasized.  "  You  have  your  chance.  Will  you 
take  it?  " 

He  looked  up  quickly  at  Stella  Larue.  She 
had  risen  impulsively  and  flung  her  arms  about 
Constance. 

"  Yes,"  he  muttered  huskily,  taking  the 
papers,  "  all  of  it." 


CHAPTER 

THE  ABDUCTORS 

"  TAKE  care  of  me — please — please!  " 

A  slip  of  a  girl,  smartly  attired  in  a  fur- 
trimmed  dress  and  a  chic  little  feather-tipped 
hat,  hurried  up  to  Constance  Dunlap  late  one 
afternoon  as  she  turned  the  corner  below  her 
apartment. 

"  It  isn't  faintness  or  illness  exactly — ^but— 
it's  all  so  hazy,"  stammered  the  girl  breath 
lessly.  "  And  I've  forgotten  who  I  am.  I've 
forgotten  where  I  live — and  a  man  has  been 
following  me — oh,  ever  so  long." 

The  weariness  in  the  tone  of  the  last  words 
caused  Constance  to  look  more  closely  at  the 
girl.  Plainly  she  was  on  the  verge  of  hysterics. 
Tears  were  streaming  down  her  pale  cheeks  and 
there  were  dark  rings  under  her  eyes,  sug 
gestive  of  a  haunting  fear  of  something  from 
which  she  fled. 

Constance  was  astounded  for  the  moment. 
Was  the  girl  crazy?  She  had  heard  of  cases 
like  this,  but  to  meet  one  so  unexpectedly  was 
surely  disconcerting. 

204 


THE  ABDUCTORS  205 

"  Who  has  been  following  you?  "  asked  Con 
stance  gently,  looking  hastily  over  her  shoulder 
and  seeing  no  one. 

"  A  man,"  exclaimed  the  girl,  "  but  I  think 
he  has  gone  now." 

"  Can't  you  think  of  your  name?  "  urged 
Constance.  "  Try." 

"  No,"  cried  the  girl,  "  no,  I  can't,  I  can't." 

"  Or  your  address!  "  repeated  Constance. 
"Try— try  hard!  " 

The  girl  looked  vacantly  about. 

"  No,"  she  sobbed,  "  it's  all  gone — all." 

Puzzled,  Constance  took  her  arm  and  slowly 
walked  her  up  the  street  toward  her  own  apart 
ment  in  the  hope  that  she  might  catch  sight  of 
some  familiar  face  or  be  able  to  pull  herself 
together. 

But  it  was  of  no  use. 

They  passed  a  policeman  who  eyed  them 
sharply.  The  mere  sight  of  the  blue-coated 
officer  sent  a  shudder  through  the  already 
trembling  girl  on  her  arm. 

"  Don't,  don't  let  them  take  me  to  a  hospital 
— don't,"  pleaded  the  girl  in  a  hoarse  whisper 
when  they  had  passed  the  officer. 

"  I  won't,"  reassured  Constance.  "  Was 
that  the  man  who  was  following  you?  ' 

11  No — oh,  no,"  sobbed  the  girl  nervously 
looking  back. 


206  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

"  Who  was  he,  then?  "  asked  Constance 
eagerly. 

The  girl  did  not  answer,  but  continued  to 
look  back  wildly  from  time  to  time,  although 
there  was  no  doubt  that,  if  he  existed  at  all, 
the  man  had  disappeared. 

Suddenly  Constance  realized  that  she  had  on 
her  hands  a  case  of  aphasia,  perhaps  real,  per 
haps  induced  by  a  drug. 

At  any  rate,  the  fear  of  being  sent  away  to 
an  institution  was  so  strong  in  the  poor 
creature  that  Constance  felt  intuitively  how 
disastrous  to  her  might  be  the  result  of  disre 
garding  the  obsession. 

She  was  in  a  quandary.  What  should  she  do 
with  the  girl?  To  leave  her  on  the  street  was 
out  of  the  question.  She  was  now  more  help 
less  than  ever. 

They  had  reached  the  door  of  the  apart 
ment.  Gemly  she  led  the  trembling  girl  into 
her  own  home. 

But  now  the  question  of  what  to  do  arose 
with  redoubled  force.  She  hesitated  to  call 
a  physician,  at  least  yet,  because  his  first  ad 
vice  would  probably  be  to  send  the  poor  little 
stranger  to  the  psychopathic  ward  of  some 
hospital. 

Constance's   eye   happened   to   rest  on   the 


THE  ABDUCTORS  207 

dictionary  in  her  bookcase.  Perhaps  she  might 
recall  the  girl's  name  to  her,  if  she  were  not 
shamming,  by  reading  over  the  list  of  women's 
names  in  the  back  of  the  book. 

It  meant  many  minutes,  perhaps  hours.  But 
then  Constance  reflected  on  what  might  have 
happened  to  the  girl  if  she  had  chanced  to 
appeal  to  some  one  who  had  not  felt  a  true 
interest  in  her.  It  was  worth  trying.  She 
would  do  it. 

Starting  with  "  A,"  she  read  slowly. 

"  Is  your  name  Abigail?  " 

Down  through  Barbara,  Camilla,  Deborah, 
Edith,  Faith,  she  read. 

"  Flora!  "  she  asked. 

The  girl  seemed  to  apprehend  something,  ap 
pear  less  blank. 

"  Florence?  "  persisted  Constance. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  cried,  "  that's  it — that's  my 
name." 

But  as  for  the  last  name  and  the  address  she 
was  just  as  hazy  as  ever.  Still,  there  was  now 
something  different  about  her. 

"  Florence — Florence  what?  "  reiterated 
Constance  patiently. 

There  was  no  answer.  But  with  the  con 
tinued  repetition  it  seemed  as  if  some  depth 
in  her  nature  had  been  stirred.  Constance 


208  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

could  not  'help  feeling  that  the  girl  had  really 
found  herself. 

She  had  risen  and  was  facing  Constance, 
both  hands  pressed  to  her  throbbing  temples 
as  if  to  keep  her  head  from  bursting.  Con 
stance  had  assisted  her  off  with  her  coat  and 
hat,  and  now  the  sartorial  wreck  of  her  masses 
of  blonde  hair  was  apparent. 

"  I  suppose,"  she  cried  incoherently,  "  I'm 
just  one  more  of  the  thousands  of  girls  who 
drop  out  of  sight  every  year. ' ' 

Constance  listened  in  amazement.  As  the 
spell  of  her  influence  seemed  to  calm  the  over 
wrought  mind  of  the  girl  there  succeeded  a 
hardness  in  her  tone  that  was  wholly  out  of 
keeping  with  her  youth.  There  was  something 
that  breathed  of  a  past  where  there  should  have 
been  nothing  but  the  thought  of  a  future. 

"  Tell  me  why,"  soothed  Constance  with  an 
air  that  invited  confidence. 

The  girl  looked  up  and  again  passed  her 
hand  over  her  white  forehead  with  its  mass  of 
tangled  fallen  hair.  Somehow  Constance  felt  a 
tingling  sensation  of  sympathy  in  her  heart. 
Impulsively  she  put  out  her  hand  and  took  the 
cold  moist  hand  of  the  girl. 

"  Because,"  she  hesitated,  struggling  now 
with  re-flooding  consciousness,  "  because — I 


THE  ABDUCTORS  209 

don't  know.  I  thought,  perhaps — "  she  added, 
dropping  her  eyes,  "  you  could — help  me." 

She  was  speaking  rapidly  enough  now.  "  I 
think  they  have  employed  detectives  to  trace 
me.  One  of  them  is  almost  up  with  me.  I'm 
afraid  I  can't  slip  out  of  the  net  again.  And — • 
I — I  won't  go  back  to  them.  I  can't.  I  won't." 

11  Go  back  to  whom?  "  queried  her  friend. 
"  Detectives  employed  by  whom?  " 

"  My  folks,"  she  answered  quickly. 

Constance  was  surprised.  Least  of  all  had 
she  expected  that. 

"  Why  won't  you  go  home?  "  she  prompted 
as  the  girl  seemed  about  to  lapse  into  a  sort  of 
stolid  reticence. 

"  Home?  "  she  repeated  bitterly.  "  Home? 
No  one  would  believe  my  story.  I  couldn't  go 
home,  now.  They  have  made  it  impossible  for 
me  to  go  home.  I  mean,  every  newspaper  has 
published  my  picture.  There  were  headlines 
for  days,  and  only  by  chance  I  was  not  rec 
ognized.  ' ' 

She  was  sobbing  now  convulsively.  * '  If  they 
had  only  let  me  alone!  I  might  have  gone 
back,  then.  But  now — after  the  newspapers 
and  the  search — never!  And  yet  I  am  going 
to  have  revenge  some  day.  When  he  least  ex 
pects  it  I  am  going  to  tell  the  truth  and — " 

She  stopped. 


210  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

"  And  what?  "  asked  Constance. 

"  Tell  the  truth — and  then  do  a  cowardly 
thing.  I  would — " 

"  You  would  not!  "  blazed  Constance, 
There  was  no  mistaking  the  meaning. 
' '  Leave  it  to  me.  Trust  me.  I  will  help  you. ' ' 

She  pulled  the  girl  down  on  the  divan  beside 
her. 

"  Why  talk  of  suicide?  "  mused  Constance. 
"  You  can  plead  this  aphasia  I  have  just  seen. 
I  know  lots  of  newspaper  women.  We  could 
carry  it  through  so  that  even  the  doctors  would 
help  us.  Eemember,  aphasia  will  do  for  a  girl 
nowadays  what  nothing  else  can  do.'* 

"  Aphasia!  "  Florence  repeated  harshly. 
"  Call  it  what  you  like — weakness — anything. 
I — I  loved  that  man — not  the  one  who  followed 
me — another.  I  believed  him.  But  he  left  me 
— left  me  in  a  place — across  in  Brooklyn.  They 
said  I  was  a  fool,  that  some  other  fellow,  per 
haps  better,  with  more  money,  would  take  care 
of  me.  But  I  left.  I  got  a  place  in  a  factory. 
Then  some  one  in  the  factory  became  sus 
picious.  I  had  saved  a  little.  It  took  me  to 
Boston. 

"  Again  some  one  grew  suspicious.  I  came 
back  here,  here — the  only  place  to  hide.  I  got 
another  position  as  waitress  in  the  Betsy  Ross 
Tea  Boom.  There  I  was  able  to  stay  until 


THE  ABDUCTORS  211 

yesterday.  But  then  a  man  came  in.  He  had 
been  there  before.  He  seemed  too  interested 
in  me,  not  in  a  way  that  others  have  been,  but 
in  me — my  name.  Some  how  I  suspected.  I 
put  on  my  hat  and  coat.  I  fled.  I  think  he 
followed  me.  All  night  I  have  walked  the 
streets  and  ridden  in  cars  to  get  away  from 
him.  At  last — I  appealed  to  you." 

The  girl  had  sunk  back  into  the  soft  pillows 
of  the  couch  beside  her  new  friend  and  hid  her 
face.  Softly  Constance  patted  and  smoothed 
the  wealth  of  golden  hair. 

"  You — you  poor  little  girl,"  she  sympa 
thized. 

Then  a  film  came  over  her  own  eyes. 

"  New  York  took  me  at  a  critical  time  in 
my  own  life,"  she  said  more  to  herself  than 
to  the  girl.  * '  She  sheltered  me,  gave  me  a  new 
start.  What  she  did  for  me  she  will  do  for  any 
other  person  who  really  wishes  to  make  a  fresh 
start  in  life.  I  made  few  acquaintances,  no 
friends.  Fortunately,  the  average  New  Yorker 
asks  only  that  his  neighbor  leave  him  alone. 
No  hermit  could  find  better  and  more  complete 
solitude  than  in  the  heart  of  this  great  city." 

Constance  looked  pityingly  at  the  girl  be 
fore  her. 

"  Why  can't  you  tell  them,"  she  suggested, 


212  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

"  that  you  wanted  to  be  independent,  that  you 
went  away  to  make  your  own  living?  " 

11  But — they — my  father — is  well  off.  And 
they  have  this  detective  who  follows  me.  He 
will  find  me  some  day — for  the  reward — and 
will  tell  the  truth." 

11  The  reward?  " 

"  Yes — a  thousand  dollars.  Don't  you  re 
member  reading — " 

The  girl  stopped  short  as  if  to  check  herself. 

*  *  You — you  are  Florence  Gibbons !  ' '  gasped 
Constance  as  with  a  rush  there  came  over  her 
the  recollection  of  a  famous  unsolved  mystery 
of  several  months  before. 

The  girl  did  not  look  up  as  Constance  bent 
over  and  put  her  arms  about  her. 

"  Who  was  he?  "  she  asked  persuasively. 

"  Preston — Lansing  Preston,"  she  sobbed 
bitterly.  "  Only  the  other  day  I  read  of  his 
engagement  to  a  girl  in  Chicago — beautiful,  in 
society.  Oh — I  could  kill  him,"  she  cried, 
throwing  out  her  arms  passionately.  "  Think 
of  it.  He — rich,  powerful,  respected.  I — poor, 
almost  crazy — an  outcast." 

Constance  did  not  interfere  until  the  tempest 
had  passed. 

"  What  name  did  you  give  at  the  tea  room?  " 
asked  Constance. 

"  Viola  Cole,"  answered  Florence. 


THE  ABDUCTORS  213 

"  Rest  here,"  soothed  Constance.  "  Here 
at  least  you  are  safe.  I  have  an  idea.  I  shall 
be  back  soon." 

The  Betsy  Ross  was  still  open  after  the  rush 
of  tired  shoppers  and  later  of  business  women 
to  whom  this  was  not  only  a  restaurant  but  a 
club.  Constance  entered  and  sat  down. 

"  Is  the  manager  in?  "  she  asked  of  the 
waitress. 

"  Mrs.  Palmer?  No.  But,  if  you  care  to 
wait,  I  think  she'll  be  back  directly." 

As  Constance  sat  toying  absently  with  some 
food  at  one  of  the  snowy  white  tables,  a  man 
entered.  A  man  in  a  tea  room  is  an  anomaly. 
For  the  tea  room  is  a  woman's  institution,  run 
by  women  for  women.  Men  enter  with  dif 
fidence,  and  seldom  alone.  This  man  was  quite 
evidently  looking  for  some  one. 

His  eye  fell  on  Constance.  Her  heart  gave 
a  leap.  It  was  her  old  enemy,  Drummond,  the 
detective.  For  a  moment  he  hesitated,  then 
bowed,  and  came  over  to  her  table. 

"  Peculiar  places,  these  tea  rooms,"  ob 
served  Drummond. 

Constance  was  doing  some  quick  thinking. 
Could  this  be  the  detective  Florence  Gibbons 
had  mentioned? 

"  The  only  thing  lacking  to  make  them  com- 


214  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

plete,"  he  rattled  on,  "  is  a  license.  Now, 
take  those  places  that  have  a  ladies'  bar — that 
do  openly  what  tea  rooms  do  covertly.  They 
don't  reckon  with  the  attitude  of  women. 
This  is  New  York — not  Paris.  Such  things 
are  years  off.  I  don't  say  they'll  not  come  or 
that  women  won't  use  them — but  not  by  that 
name — not  yet." 

Constance  wondered  what  his  cynical  incon- 
sequentialities  masked. 

"  I  think  it  adds  to  the  interest,"  she  ob 
served,  watching  him  furtively,  "  this  evasion 
of  the  laws." 

Drummond  was  casting  about  for  something 
to  do  and,  naturally,  to  a  mind  like  his,  a 
drink  was  the  solution.  Evidently,  however, 
there  were  degrees  of  brazenness,  even  in  tea 
rooms.  The  Betsy  Boss  not  only  would  not 
produce  a  labeled  bottle  and  an  obvious  glass 
but  stoutly  denied  their  ability  to  fill  such  an 
order,  even  whispered. 

"  Russian  tea!  "  suggested  Drummond 
cryptically. 

"  How  will  you  have  it — with  Scotch  or 
rye!  "  asked  the  waitress. 

"  Bourbon,"  hazarded  Drummond. 

When  the  "  Russian  tea  "  arrived  it  was  in 
a  neat  little  pot  with  two  others,  the  first  con 
taining  real  tea  and  the  second  hot  water.  It 


THE  ABDUCTORS  215 

was  served  virtuously  in  tea  cups,  so  opaquely 
concealed  that  no  one  but  the  clandestine 
drinker  could  know  what  sort  of  poison  was 
being  served. 

Mrs.  Palmer  was  evidently  later  than  ex 
pected.  Drummond  fidgeted  after  the  manner 
of  a  man  out  of  his  accustomed  habitat.  And 
yet  he  did  not  seem  to  be  interested  really  in 
Constance,  or  even  in  Mrs.  Palmer.  For  after 
a  few  moments,  he  rose  and  excused  himself. 

"  How  did  he  come  here?  "  Constance  asked 
herself  over  and  over. 

As  far  as  she  could  reason  it  out,  there  could 
be  only  one  reason.  Drummond  was  clearly  up 
with  Florence.  Did  he  also  know  that  Con 
stance  was  shielding  her? 

The  more  she  thought  of  it,  the  more  she 
shuddered  at  the  tactless  way  in  which  the  de 
tective  would  perform  the  act  of  "  charity  " 
by  discovering  the  lost  girl — and  pocketing 
the  reward. 

If  her  family  only  knew,  how  eagerly  they 
might  let  her  come  back  in  her  own  way.  She 
looked  up  the  address  of  Everett  Gibbons 
while  she  was  waiting,  a  half -formed  plan  tak 
ing  definite  shape  in  her  mind. 

What  she  did  must  be  done  quickly.  Here 
at  the  tea  room  at  least  Florence,  or  rather 

16 


216  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

Viola,  was  known.  Perhaps  the  best  way,  after 
all,  was  to  let  her  be  discovered  here.  They 
could  not  deny  that  she  had  been  working  for 
them  acceptably  for  some  time. 

Half  an  hour  later,  Mrs.  Palmer,  a  bustling 
business  woman,  came  in  and  the  waitress 
pointed  her  out  to  Constance. 

11  Did  you  have  a  waitress  here  named  Viola 
Cole?  "  began  Constance,  watching  keenly  the 
effect  of  her  inquiry. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Palmer  in  a  tone  of 
interest  that  reassured  Constance  that,  if  there 
were  any  connection  between  Drummond's 
presence  and  Mrs.  Palmer,  it  was  wholly  on  his 
seeking.  "  But  she  disappeared  last  night.  A 
most  peculiar  girl — but  a  splendid  worker. ' ' 

11  She  has  been  ill,"  Constance  hastened  to 
explain.  "  I  am  a  friend  of  hers.  I  have  a 
business  downtown  and  could  not  come  around 
until  to-night  to  tell  you  that  she  will  be  back 
to-morrow  if  you  will  take  her  back." 

"  Of  course  I'll  take  her  back.  I'm  sorry 
she's  ill,"  and  Mrs.  Palmer  bustled  out  into 
the  kitchen,  not  unfeelingly  but  merely  because 
that  was  her  manner. 

Constance  paid  her  check  and  left  the  tea 
room.  So  far  she  had  succeeded.  The  next 
thing  she  had  planned  was  a  visit  to  Mr.  Gib 
bons.  That  need  not  take  long,  for  she  was  not 


THE  ABDUCTOES  217 

going  to  tell  anything.  Her  idea  was  merely 
to  pave  the  way. 

The  Gibbons  she  found,  lived  in  a  large  house 
on  one  of  the  numerous  side  streets  from  the 
Park,  in  a  neighborhood  that  was  in  fact  some 
thing  more  than  merely  well-to-do. 

Fortunately  she  found  Everett  Gibbons  in 
and  was  ushered  into  his  study,  where  he  sat 
poring  over  some  papers  and  enjoying  an 
after-dinner  cigar. 

"  Mr.  Gibbons,"  began  Constance,  "  I  be 
lieve  there  is  a  one  thousand  dollar  reward 
for  news  of  the  whereabouts  of  your  daughter, 
Florence. ' ' 

"  Yes,"  he  said  in  a  colorless  tone  that  be 
trayed  the  hopelessness  of  the  long  search. 
* '  But  we  have  traced  down  so  many  false  clues 
that  we  have  given  up  hope.  Since  the  day  she 
went  away,  we  have  never  been  able  to  get  the 
slightest  trace  of  her.  Still,  we  welcome  out 
side  aid." 

"  Of  detectives!  "  she  asked. 

"  Official  and  private — paid  and  volunteer — 
anybody, ' '  he  answered.  ' '  I  myself  have  come 
to  the  belief  that  she  is  dead,  for  that  is  the 
only  explanation  I  can  think  of  for  her  long 
silence. ' ' 

"  She  is  not  dead,"  replied  Constance  in  a 
low  tone. 


218  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

"  Not  dead?  "  he  repeated  eagerly,  catching 
at  even  such  a  straw  as  an  unknown  woman 
might  cast  out.  "  Then  you  know — " 

"  No,"  she  interrupted  positively,  "  I  can 
not  tell  you  any  more.  You  must  call  off  all 
other  searchers.  I  will  let  you  know." 

"  When?  " 

"  To-morrow,  perhaps  the  next  day.  I  will 
call  you  on  the  telephone." 

She  rose  and  made  a  hasty  adieu  before  the 
man  who  had  been  prematurely  aged  might 
overwhelm  her  with  questions  and  break  down 
her  resolution  to  carry  the  thing  through  as 
she  had  seen  best. 

Cheerily,  Constance  turned  the  key  in  the 
lock  of  her  door. 

There  was  no  light  and  somehow  the  silence 
smote  on  her  ominously. 

"  Florence!  "  she  called. 

There  was  no  answer. 

Not  a  sign  indicated  her  presence.  There 
was  the  divan  with  the  pillows  disarranged  as 
they  had  been  when  she  left.  The  furniture 
was  in  the  same  position  as  before.  Hastily 
she  went  from  one  room  to  another. 

Florence  had  disappeared! 

She  went  to  the  door  again.  All  seemed 
right  there.  If  any  one  had  entered,  it  must 


THE  ABDUCTORS  219 

have  been  because  he  was  admitted,  for  there 
were  no  marks  to  indicate  that  the  lock  had 
been  forced. 

She  called  up  the  tea  room.  Mrs.  Palmer 
was  very  sympathetic,  but  there  had  been  no 
trace  of  *  *  Viola  Cole  ' '  there  yet. 

"  You  will  let  me  know  if  you  get  any 
word?  "  asked  Constance  anxiously. 

"  Surely,"  came  back  Mrs.  Palmer's  cordial 
reply. 

A  hundred  dire  possibilities  crowded  through 
her  mind.  Might  Florence  be  held  somewhere 
as  a  "  white  slave  " — not  by  physical  force 
but  by  circumstances,  ignorant  of  her  rights, 
afraid  to  break  away  again? 

Or  was  it  suicide,  as  she  had  threatened? 
She  could  not  believe  it.  Nothing  could  have 
happened  in  such  a  short  time  to  change  her 
resolution  about  revenge. 

The  recollection  of  all  the  stories  she  had 
read  recently  crossed  her  mind.  Could  it  be  a 
case  of  drugs  ?  The  girl  had  given  no  evidence 
of  being  a  "  dope  "  fiend. 

Perhaps  some  one  had  entered,  after  all. 

She  thought  of  the  so-called  "  poisoned 
needle  "  cases.  Might  she  not  have  been 
spirited  off  in  that  way?  Constance  had 
doubted  the  stories.  She  knew  that  almost  any 
doctor  would  say  that  it  was  impossible  to  in- 


220  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

ject  a  narcotic  by  a  sudden  jab  of  a  hypodermic 
syringe.  That  was  rather  a  slow,  careful  and 
deliberate  operation,  to  be  submitted  to  with 
patience. 

Yet  Florence  was  gone! 

Suddenly  it  flashed  over  Constance  that 
Drummond  might  not  be  seeking  the  reward 
primarily,  after  all.  His  first  object  might  be 
shielding  Preston.  She  recollected  that  Mr. 
Gibbons  had  said  nothing  about  Drummond, 
either  one  way  or  the  other.  And  if  he  were 
both  shielding  Preston  and  working  for  the 
reward,  he  would  care  little  how  much  Florence 
suffered.  He  might  be  playing  both  ends  to 
serve  himself. 

She  rang  the  elevator  bell. 

' '  Has  anybody  called  at  my  apartment  while 
I  was  out?  "  she  asked. 

*  *  Yes  'm.    A  man  came  here. ' ' 

'  *  And  you  let  him  up  f  " 

il  I  didn't  know  you  were  out.  You  see  I 
had  just  come  on.  He  said  he  was  to  meet 
some  one  at  your  apartment.  And  when  he 
pressed  the  buzzer,  the  door  opened,  and  I  ran 
the  elevator  down  again.  I  thought  it  was  all 
right,  ma'am." 

"  And  then  what?  "  inquired  Constance 
breathlessly. 


THE  ABDUCTORS  221 

"  Well,  in  about  five  minutes  my  bell  rang. 
I  ran  the  elevator  up  again,  and,  waiting,  was 
this  man  with  a  girl  I  had  never  seen  before. 
You  understand — I  thought  it  was  all  right — 
he  told  me  he  was  going  to  meet  some  one. ' ' 

"  Yes — yes.  I  understand.  Oh,  my  God,  if 
I  had  only  thought  to  leave  word  not  to  let  her 
go.  How  did  she  look?  " 

"  Her  clothes,  you  mean,  Ma'am?  " 

"  No — her  face,  her  eyes?  ' 

"  Beggin'  your  pardon,  I  thought  she  was— 
well,  er, — acted  queer — scared — dazed-like." 

"  You  didn't  notice  which  way  they  went,  I 
suppose?  " 

"  No  ma'am,  I  didn't. " 

Constance  turned  back  again  into  her  empty 
apartment,  heart-sick.  In  spite  of  all  she  had 
planned  and  done,  she  was  defeated — worse 
than  defeated.  Where  was  Florence?  What 
might  not  happen  to  her?  She  could  have  sat 
down  and  cried.  Instead  she  passed  a  fever 
ishly  restless  night. 

All  the  next  day  passed,  and  still  not  a  word. 
She  felt  her  own  helplessness.  She  could  not 
appeal  to  the  police.  That  might  defeat  the 
very  end  she  sought.  She  was  single-handed. 
For  all  she  knew,  she  was  fighting  the  almost 
limitless  power  of  brains  and  money  of  Preston. 
Inquiry  developed  the  fact  that  Preston  him- 


222  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

self  was  reported  to  be  in  Chicago  with  his 
fiancee.  Time  and  again  she  was  on  the  point 
of  making  the  journey  to  let  him  know  that 
some  one  at  least  was  watching  him.  But,  she 
reflected,  if  she  did  that  she  might  miss  the  one 
call  from  Florence  for  help. 

Then  she  thought  bitterly  of  the  false  hopes 
she  had  raised  in  the  despairing  father  of 
Florence  Gibbons.  It  was  maddening. 

Several  times  during  the  day  Constance 
dropped  into  the  Betsy  Boss,  without  finding 
any  word. 

Late  that  night  the  buzzer  on  her  door 
sounded.  It  was  Mrs.  Palmer  herself,  with  a 
letter  at  last,  written  on  rough  paper  in  pen 
cil  with  a  trembling  hand. 

Constance  almost  literally  pounced  on  it. 

"  Will  you  tell  the  lady  who  was  so  kind  to 
me  that  while  she  was  out  seeing  you  at  the 
tea  room,  there  was  a  call  at  her  door  I  I  didn't 
like  to  open  it,  but  when  I  asked  who  was  there, 
a  man  said  it  was  the  steam-fitter  she  had  asked 
to  call  about  the  heat. 

"  I  opened  the  door.  From  that  moment 
when  I  saw  his  face  until  I  came  to  myself  here 
I  remember  nothing.  I  would  write  to  her, 
only  I  don't  know  where  she  lives.  One  of  the 
bell-boys  here  is  kind  enough  to  smuggle  this 


THE  ABDUCTORS  223 

note  out  for  me  addressed  to  the  Betsy 
Boss. 

"  Tell  her  please,  that  I  am  at  a  place  in 
Brooklyn,  I  think,  called  Lustgarten's — she  can 
recognize  it  because  it  is  at  a  railroad  crossing 
— steam  railroads,  not  trolleys  or  elevateds. 

"  I  know  you  think  me  crazy,  Mrs.  Palmer, 
but  the  other  lady  can  tell  you  about  it.  Oh, 
it  was  the  same  horrible  feeling  that  came  over 
me  that  night  as  before.  It  isn't  a  dream;  it's 
more  like  a  trance.  It  comes  in  a  second — 
usually  when  I  am  frightened.  I  suddenly  feel 
nervous  and  shaky.  I  can  "*.  tell  what  is  going  on 
around  me.  I  lose  my  hearing.  Part  of  the 
time  it  is  as  though,  I  had  a  paralytic  stroke 
of  the  tongue.  The  next  day,  perhaps,  it  is 
gone.  But  while  it  lasts  it  is  terrifying.  It's 
like  walking  into  a  new  world,  with  everybody, 
everything  strange  about  me." 

The  note  ended  with  a  most  pathetic  appeal. 

Constance  was  already  nervously  putting  on 
her  hat. 

"  You  are  going  to  go  there?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Palmer. 

"  If  I  can  locate  the  place,"  she  answered. 

11  Aren't  you  afraid?  "  inquired  the  other. 

Constance  did  not  reply.  She  ostentatiously 
slipped  a  little  ivory-handled  revolver  into  her 
handbag. 


224  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 


< . 


It's  a  new  one,"  she  explained  finally, 
"  like  nothing  you  ever  heard  of  before,  I  guess. 
I  bought  it  only  the  other  day  after  a  friend  of 
mine  told  me  about  it." 

Mrs.  Palmer  was  watching  her  closely. 

"  You — you  are  a  wonderful  woman,"  she 
burst  out  finally.  "  It  isn't  good  business,  it 
isn't  good  sense." 

Constance  stopped  short  in  her  preparations 
for  the  search.  * l  What  are  business  and  sense 
compared  to  the — the  life  of — " 

She  checked  herself  on  the  very  point  of  re 
vealing  the  girl's  real  name. 

"  Nothing,"  replied  Mrs.  Palmer.  "  I  had 
already  made  up  my  mind  to  go  with  you  before 
I  spoke — if  you  will  let  me." 

In  a  moment  the  two  understood  each  other 
better  than  after  years  of  casual  acquaintance. 

Back  and  forth  through  the  mazes  of  streets 
and  car  lines  of  the  city  across  the  river  the 
two  women  traveled,  asking  veiled  questions  of 
every  wearer  of  a  uniform,  until  at  last  they 
found  such  a  place  as  Florence  had  described 
in  her  note. 

There,  it  seemed,  had  sprung  up  a  little  center 
of  vice.  While  reformers  were  trying  to  clamp 
down  tight  the  "  lid  "  in  New  York,  all  the 
vicious  elements  were  prying  it  up  here. 


THE  ABDUCTORS  225 

Crushed  in  one  place,  they  rose  again  in  an 
other. 

There  was  the  electric  sign — "  Lustgarten." 
Even  a  cursory  glance  told  them  that  it  in 
cluded  a  saloon  on  the  first  floor,  with  a  sort 
of  dance  hall  and  second-rate  cabaret.  Above 
that  was  a  hotel.  The  windows  were  darkened, 
with  awnings  pulled  down,  even  on  what  must 
have  been  in  the  daytime  the  shady  side. 

"  Shall  we  go  in?  Are  you  game?  "  asked 
Constance  of  her  companion. 

"  I  haven't  gone  so  far  without  considering 
that,'*  replied  Mrs.  Palmer,  somewhat  re 
proachfully. 

Without  a  word  Constance  entered  the  door 
down  the  street  followed  by  her  companion. 

A  negro  at  the  little  cubby  hole  of  an  office 
pushed  out  a  register  at  them.  Constance 
signed  the  first  names  that  came  into  her  head, 
and  a  moment  later  they  were  on  their  way  up 
to  a  big  double  room  on  the  third  floor,  led  by 
another,  younger  negro. 

11  Will  you  send  the  bell-boy  up?  "  asked 
Constance  as  they  entered  the  room. 

"I'm  the  bell-boy  ma'am,"  was  his  discon 
certing  reply. 

"  I  mean  the  other  one,"  replied  Constance, 
hazarding,  "  the  one  who  is  here  in  the  day 
time." 


226  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

"  There  ain't  no  other  boy,  ma'am.  There 
ain't  no — " 

"  Could  you  deliver  a  note  for  me  at  a  tea 
room  in  New  York  to-morrow?  "  interrupted 
Constance,  striking  while  the  iron  seemed  hot. 

The  boy  turned  around  abruptly  from  his 
busy  occupation  of  doing  something  useless  that 
would  elicit  a  tip.  He  quietly  shut  the  door, 
and  wheeled  about  with  his  hand  still  on  the 
knob. 

"  Do  you  want  to  know  what  room  she's  in!  ' 
he  asked. 

Constance  opened  her  handbag.  Mrs.  Palmer 
suppressed  a  little  scream.  She  had  expected 
that  ivory-handled  thing  to  appear.  Instead 
there  was  a  treasury  note  of  a  size  that  caused 
the  white  part  of  the  boy's  eyes  to  expand  be 
yond  all  the  laws  of  optics. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  pressing  it  into  his  hand. 

"  Forty-two — down  the  hall,  around  the  turn, 
on  the  other  side,"  whispered  the  boy.  "  And 
for  God's  sake,  ma'am,  don't  tell  nobody  I  told 
you. ' ' 

His  shuffle  down  the  hall  had  scarcely  ceased 
before  the  two  women  were  stealthily  creeping 
in  the  opposite  direction,  looking  eagerly  at  the 
numbers. 

Constance  had  stopped  abruptly  around  the 


THE  ABDUCTORS  227 

turn.  Through  a  transom  of  one  of  the  rooms 
they  could  hear  voices  but  could  see  no  light. 

* '  Well,  go  back  then, ' '  growled  a  gruff  voice. 
"  Your  family  will  never  believe  your  story, 
never  believe  that  you  came  again  and  stayed 
at  Lustgarten's  against  your  will.  Why,"  the 
voice  taunted  with  a  harsh  laugh,  "  if  they 
knew  the  truth,  they  would  turn  you  from  the 
door,  instead  of  offering  a  reward." 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence.  Then  a 
woman's  voice,  strangely  familiar  to  Con 
stance,  spoke. 

"  The  truth!  "  she  exclaimed  bitterly.  "  He 
knew  it  was  a  case  of  a  girl  who  liked  a  good 
time,  liked  pretty  clothes,  a  ride  in  an  automo 
bile,  theaters,  excitement,  bright  lights,  night 
life — a  girl  with  a  romantic  disposition  in 
whom  all  that  was  repressed  at  home.  He 
knew  it,"  she  repeated,  raising  the  tone  to  an 
almost  hysterical  pitch,  "  led  me  on,  made  me 
love  him  because  he  could  give  them  all  to  me. 
And  when  I  began  to  show  the  strain  of  the 
pace — they  all  show  it  more  than  the  men — he 
cast  me  aside  like  a  squeezed-out  lemon." 

As  she  listened,  Constance  understood  it  all 
now.  It  was  to  make  Florence  Gibbons  a  piece 
of  property,  a  thing  to  be  traded  in,  bartered — 
that  was  the  idea.  Discover  her — yes ;  but  first 
to  thrust  her  into  the  life  if  she  would  not  go 


228  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

into  it  herself — anything  to  discredit  her  testi 
mony  beforehand,  anything  to  save  the  precious 
reputation  of  one  man. 

'  *  Well, ' '  shouted  the  other  voice  menacingly, 
"  do  you  want  to  know  the  truth?  Haven't 
you  read  it  often  enough?  Instead  of  hoping 
you  will  return,  they  pray  that  you  are  dead!  " 

He  hissed  the  words  out,  then  added,  "  They 
prefer  to  think  that  you  are  dead.  "Why — damn 
it! — they  turn  to  that  belief  for  comfort!  " 

Constance  had  seized  Mrs.  Palmer  by  the 
arm,  and,  acting  in  concert,  they  threw  both 
their  weights  against  the  thin  wooden  door. 

It  yielded  with  a  crash. 

Inside  the  room  was  dark. 

Indistinctly  Constance  could  make  out  two 
figures,  one  standing,  the  other  seated  in  a  deep 
rocker. 

A  suppressed  exclamation  of  surprise  was 
followed  by  a  hasty  lunge  of  the  standing  figure 
toward  her. 

Constance  reached  quickly  into  her  handbag 
and  drew  out  the  little  ivory-handled  pistol. 

"  Bang!  "  it  spat  almost  into  the  man's  face. 

Choking,  sputtering,  the  man  groped  a  minute 
blindly,  then  fell  on  the  floor  and  frantically 
tried  to  rise  again  and  call  out. 

The  words  seemed  to  stick  in  his  throat. 

"  You- —you  shot  him?  "  gasped  a  woman's 


THE  ABDUCTOES  229 

voice  which  Constance  now  knew  was  Flor 
ence  's. 

"  With  the  new  German  Secret  Service  gun," 
answered  Constance  quietly,  keeping  it  leveled 
to  cow  any  assistance  that  might  be  brought. 
"  It  blinds  and  stupefies  without  killing — a 
bulletless  revolver  intended  to  check  and  ren 
der  harmless  the  criminal  instead  of  maiming 
him.  The  cartridges  contain  several  chemicals 
that  combine  when  they  are  exploded  and  form 
a  vapor  which  blinds  a  man  and  puts  him  out. 
No  one  wants  to  kill  such  a  person  as  this.*' 

She  reached  over  and  switched  on  the  lights. 

The  man  on  the  floor  was  Drummond  him 
self. 

"  You  will  tell  your  real  employer,  Mr. 
Preston,"  she  added  contemptuously,  "  that 
unless  he  agrees  to  our  story  of  his  elopement 
with  Florence,  marries  her,  and  allows  her  to 
start  an  undefended  action  for  divorce,  we  in 
tend  to  make  use  of  the  new  federal  Mann  Act — 
with  a  jail  sentence — for  both  of  you." 

Drummond  looked  up  sullenly,  still  blinking 
and  choking. 

11  And  not  a  word  of  this  until  the  suit  is 
filed.  Then  we  will  see  the  reporters — not  he. 
Understand?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  muttered,  still  clutching  his 
throat. 


230  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

An  hour  later  Constance  was  at  the  telephone 
in  her  own  apartment. 

"  Mr.  Gibbons!  I  must  apologize  for  troub 
ling  you  at  this  late,  or  rather  early,  hour.  But 
I  promised  you  something  which  I  could  not 
fulfill  until  now.  This  is  the  Mrs.  Dunlap  who- 
called  on  you  the  other  day  with  a  clue  to  you? 
daughter  Florence.  I  have  found  her — yes- 
working  as  a  waitress  in  the  Betsy  Eoss  Tea 
Eoom.  No — not  a  word  to  anyone — not  even  to 
her  mother.  No — not  a  word.  You  can  see  her 
to-morrow — at  my  apartment.  She  is  going  to 
live  with  me  for  a  few  days  until — well — until 
we  get  a  few  little  matters  straightend  out. '  * 

Constance  had  jammed  the  receiver  back  on 
the  hook  hastily. 

Florence  Gibbons,  wild-eyed,  trembling,  im 
ploring,  had  flung  her  arms  about  her  neck. 

"  No — no — no,"  she  cried.  "  I  can't.  I 
won't" 

With  a  force  that  was  almost  masculine,  Con 
stance  took  the  girl  by  both  shoulders. 

"  The  one  thousand  dollar  reward  which 
comes  to  me,"  said  Constance  decisively,  "  will 
help  us — straighten  out  those  few  little  matters 
with  Preston.  Mrs.  Palmer  can  stretch  the  time 
which  you  have  worked  for  her." 

Something  of  Constance's  will  seemed  to  be 


THE  ABDUCTORS  231 

infused  into  Florence  Gibbons  by  force  of  sug 
gestion. 

"  And  remember,"  Constance  added  in  a 
tense  voice,  "  for  anything  after  your  elope* 
ment — it's  aphasia,  aphasia,  aphasia!  " 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  SHOPLIFTERS 

lt  MADAM,  would  you  mind  going  with  me  for 
a  few  moments  to  the  office  on  the  third  floor  1  ' ' 

Constance  Dunlap  had  been  out  on  a  shopping 
excursion.  She  had  stopped  at  the  jewelry 
counter  of  Stacy's  to  have  a  ring  repaired  and 
had  gone  on  to  the  leather  goods  department 
to  purchase  something  else. 

The  woman  who  spoke  to  her  was  a  quietly 
dressed  young  person,  quite  inconspicuous,  with 
a  keen  eye  that  seemed  to  take  in  everything 
within  a  radius  of  a  wide-angled  lens  at  a 
glance. 

She  leaned  over  and  before  Constance  could 
express  even  surprise,  added  in  a  whisper, 
"  Look  in  your  bag." 

Constance  looked  hastily,  then  realized  what 
had  happened.  The  ring  was  gone ! 

It  gave  her  quite  a  shock,  too,  for  the  ring, 
a  fine  diamond,  was  a  present  from  her  hus 
band,  one  of  the  few  pieces  of  jewelry,  treas- 

232 


THE  SHOPLIFTERS  233 

Tired  not  only  for  its  intrinsic  value  but  as  a 
remembrance  of  Carlton  and  the  supreme  sacri 
fice  he  had  made  for  her. 

She  had  noticed  nothing  in  the  crowd,  nothing 
more  than  she  had  noticed  scores  of  times  be 
fore.  The  woman  watched  her  puzzled  look, 

"  I've  been  following  you,"  she  said.  "  By 
this  time  the  other  store  detectives  must  have 
caught  the  shoplifter  and  bag-opener  who 
touched  you.  You  see,  we  don't  make  any  ar 
rests  in  the  store  if  we  can  help  it,  because  we 
don't  like  to  make  a  scene.  It's  bad  for  busi 
ness.  Besides,  if  she  had  anything  else,  we  are 
safer  when  the  case  comes  to  court,  if  we  have 
caught  her  actually  leaving  the  store  with  it. 
Of  course,  when  we  make  an  arrest  on  the  side 
walk,  we  bring  the  shoplifter  back,  but  in  a 
private,  back  elevator." 

Constance  was  following  the  young  woman 
mechanically.  At  least  there  was  a  chance  of 
recovering  the  ring. 

"  She  was  standing  next  to  you  at  the  jewelry 
counter, ' '  she  continued,  1 1  and  if  you  will  help 
identify  her  the  store  management  will  appre 
ciate  it — and  make  it  worth  your  while.  Be 
sides,"  she  urged,  "  It's  really  your  duty  to 
do  it,  madam." 

Constance  remembered  now  the  rather  simply 


234  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

but  richly  gowned  young  woman  who  had  been 
standing  next  to  her  at  the  counter,  seemingly 
unable  to  decide  which  of  a  number  of  beautiful 
rings  she  really  wanted.  She  remembered  be 
cause,  with  her  own  love  of  beauty,  she  had 
wanted  one  herself,  in  fact  had  thought  at  the 
time  that  she,  too,  might  have  difficulty  in 
choosing. 

With  the  added  feeling  of  curiosity,  Con 
stance  followed  the  woman  detective  up  in  the 
elevator. 

In  the  office,  apart  in  a  little  room  curiously 
furnished  with  a  camera,  innumerable  photo 
graphs,  cabinets,  and  filing  cases,  was  a  young 
woman,  perhaps  twenty-six  or  seven.  .On  a 
table  before  her  lay  a  pile  of  laces  and  small 
trinkets.  There,  too,  was  the  beautiful  diamond 
ring  which  she  had  hidden  in  her  muff.  Con 
stance  fairly  gasped  at  the  sight. 

The  girl  was  sitting  limply  in  a  chair  crying 
bitterly.  She  was  not  a  hardened  looking  crea 
ture.  In  fact,  her  face  bore  evident  traces  of 
refinement,  and  her  long,  slender  fingers  hinted 
at  a  nervous,  artistic  temperament.  It  was 
rather  a  shock  to  see  such  a  girl  under  such  dis 
tressing  circumstances. 

"  We've  lost  so  much  lately,"  a  small  ferret- 
eyed  man  was  saying,  "  that  we  must  make  an 
example  of  some  one.  It's  serious  for  us  de- 


THE  SHOPLIFTERS  235 

tectives,  too.  We'll  lose  our  jobs  unless  we  can 
stop  you  boosters." 

11  Oh— I— I  didn't  mean  to  do  it.  I— I  just 
couldn't  help  it,"  sobbed  the  girl  over  and  over 
again. 

"  Yes,"  drawled  the  man,  "  that's  what  they 
all  say.  But  you  've  been  caught  with  the  goods, 
this  time,  young  lady." 

A  woman  entered,  and  the  man  turned  to  her 
quickly. 

"  Carr — Kitty  Carr.  Did  you  find  anything 
under  that  name?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  the  woman  store  detective. 
'  <  We  Ve  looked  all  through  the  records  and  the 
photographs.  We  don't  find  her.  And  yet  I 
don't  think  it  is  an  alias — at  least,  if  it  is,  not 
an  alias  for  any  one  we  have  any  record  of. 
I've  a  good  eye  for  faces,  and  there  isn't  one 
we  have  on  file  as — as  good  looking, ' '  she  added, 
perhaps  with  a  little  touch  of  wistfulness  at  her 
own  plainness  and  this  beauty  gone  wrong. 

"  This  is  the  woman  who  lost  the  ring,"  put 
in  the  other  woman  detective,  motioning  to  Con 
stance,  who  had  accompanied  her  and  was 
standing,  a  silent  spectator. 

The  man  held  up  the  ring,  which  Constance 
had  already  recognized. 

"  Is  that  yours?  "  he  asked. 

For  a  moment,  strangely,  she  hesitated*    If 


236  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

it  had  been  any  other  ring  in  the  world  she  felt 
sure  that  she  would  have  said  no.  But,  then, 
she  reflected,  there  was  that  pile  of  stuff.  There 
was  no  use  in  concealing  her  ownership  of  the 
ring.  "  Yes,"  she  murmured. 

11  One  moment,  please,"  answered  the  man 
brusquely.  "  I  must  send  down  for  the  sales 
girl  who  waited  on  you  to  identify  you  and  your 
check — a  mere  formality,  you  know,  but  neces 
sary  to  keep  things  straight." 

Constance  sat  down. 

11  I  suppose  you  don't  realize  it,"  explained 
the  man,  turning  to  Constance,  "  but  the  shop 
lifters  of  the  city  get  away  with  a  couple  '  f 
million  dollars '  worth  of  stuff  every  year.  It 's 
the  price  we  have  to  pay  for  displaying  our 
goods.  But  it's  too  high.  They  are  the  depart 
ment  store's  greatest  unsolved  problem.  Now 
most  of  the  stores  are  working  together  for 
their  common  interests,  seeing  what  they  can  do 
to  root  them  out.  We  all  keep  a  sort  of  private 
rogue's  gallery  of  them.  But  we  don't  seem  to 
have  anything  on  this  girl,  nor  have  any  of 
the  other  stores  who  exchange  photographs 
and  information  with  us  anything  on  her." 

"  Evidently,  then,  it  is  her  first  offense,"  put 
in  Constance,  wondering  at  herself.  Strangely, 
she  felt  more  of  sympathy  than  of  anger  for 
the  girl. 


THE  SHOPLIFTERS  237 

"  You  mean  the  first  time  she  has  been  caught 
at  it,"  corrected  the  head  of  the  store  detec 
tives. 

"It  is  my  weakness, "  sobbed  the  girl. 
"  Sometimes  an  irresistible  impulse  to  steal 
comes  over  me.  I  just  can't  help  it." 

She  was  sobbing  convulsively.  As  she  talked 
and  listened  there  seemed  to  come  a  complete 
breakdown.  She  wept  as  though  her  heart 
would  break. 

* '  Oh, ' '  exclaimed  the  man,  * '  can  it !  Cut  out 
the  sob  stuff!  " 

"  And  yet,"  mused  Constance  half  to  herself, 
watching  the  girl  closely,  "  when  one  walks 
through  the  shops  and  sees  thousands  of  dol 
lars'  worth  of  goods  lying  unprotected  on  the 
counters,  is  it  any  wonder  that  some  poor 
woman  or  girl  should  be  tempted  and  fall? 
There,  before  her  eyes  and  within  her  grasp, 
lies  the  very  article  above  all  others  which  she 
so  ardently  craves.  No  one  is  looking.  The 
salesgirl  is  busy  with  another  customer.  The 
rest  is  easy.  And  then  the  store  detective  steps 
in — and  here  she  is — captured." 

The  girl  had  been  listening  wildly  through  her 
tears.  "  Oh,"  she  sobbed,  "  you  don't  under 
stand — none  of  you.  I  don't  crave  anything. 
I — I  just — can't  help  it — and  then,  afterwards— 


238  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

I — I  hate  the  stuff — and  I  am  so — afraid.  I 
hurry  home — and  I — oh,  what  shall  I  do — what 
shall  I  do?  " 

Constance  pitied  her  deeply.  She  looked  from 
the  wild-eyed,  tear-stained  face  to  the  miscel 
laneous  pile  of  material  on  the  table,  and  the 
unwinking  gaze  of  the  store  detectives.  True, 
the  girl  had  taken  a  very  valuable  diamond  ring, 
and  from  herself.  But  the  laces,  the  trinkets, 
all  were  abominably  cheap,  not  worth  risking 
anything  for. 

Constance's!  attention  was  recalled  by  the 
man  who  beckoned  her  aside  to  talk  to  the  sales 
girl  who  had  waited  on  her. 

"  You  remember  seeing  this  lady  at  the 
counter?  "  he  asked  of  the  girl.  She  nodded. 
"  And  that  woman  in  there?  "  he  motioned. 
Again  the  salesgirl  nodded. 

"  Do  you  remember  anything  else  that  hap 
pened?  "  he  asked  Constance  as  they  faced 
Kitty  Carr  and  he  handed  Constance  the  ring. 

Constance  looked  the  detective  squarely  in 
the  face  for  a  moment. 

4 '  I  have  my  ring.  You  have  the  other  stuff, ' ' 
she  murmured.  "  Besides,  there  is  no  record 
against  her.  She  doesn't  even  look  like  a  pro 
fessional  bad  character.  No — I'll  not  appear 
to  press  the  charge — 111  make  it  as  hard  as  I 
can  before  I'll  do  it,"  she  added  positively. 


THE  SHOPLIFTERS  239 

The  woman,  who  had  overheard,  looked  her 
gratitude.  The  detectives  were  preparing  to 
argue.  Constance  hardly  knew  what  she  was 
saying,  as  she  hurried  on  before  any  one  else 
could  speak. 

"No,"  she  added,  "  but  I'll  tell  you  what  I 
will  do.  If  you  will  let  her  go  I  will  look  after 
her.  Parole  her,  unofficially,  with  me. ' ' 

Constance  drew  a  card  from  her  case  and 
handed  it  to  the  detective.  He  read  it  care 
fully,  and  a  puzzled  look  came  over  his 
face.  "  Charge  account — good  customer — pays 
promptly,"  he  muttered  under  his  breath. 

For  a  moment  he  hesitated.  Then  he  sat 
down  at  a  desk. 

"  Mrs.  Dunlap,"  he  said,  "111  do  it." 

He  pulled  a  piece  of  printed  paper  from  the 
desk,  filled  in  a  few  blanks,  then  turned  to 
Kitty  Carr,  handing  her  a  pen. 

"  Sign  here,"  he  said  brusquely. 

Constance  bent  over  and  read.  It  was  a  form 
of  release : 

' '  I,  Kitty  Carr,  residing  at — East — th  Street, 
single,  age  twenty-seven  years,  in  consideration 
of  the  sum  of  One  Dollar,  hereby  admit  taking 
the  following  property  .  .  .  without  having 
paid  therefor  and  with  intent  not  to  pay  there 
for,  and  by  reason  of  the  withdrawal  of  the 


240  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

complaint  of  larceny,  OF  WHICH  I  AM 
GUILTY,  I  hereby  remise,  release,  and  forever 
discharge  the  said  Stacy  Co.  or  its  representa 
tives  from  any  claims,  action,  or  causes  of  ac 
tion  which  I  may  have  against  the  Stacy  Co.  or 
its  representatives  or  agents  by  reason  of  the 
withdrawal  of  said  charge  of  larceny  and  fail 
ure  to  prosecute. 

Signed,  Kitty  Carr." 

"  Now,  Kitty,"  soothed  Constance,  as  the 
trembling  signature  was  blotted  and  added  to 
a  photograph  which  had  quietly  been  taken, 
"  they  are  going  to  let  you  go  this  time — with 
me.  Come,  straighten  your  hat,  wipe  your  eyes. 
You  must  take  me  home  with  you — where  we 
can  have  a  nice  long  talk.  Remember,  I  am 
your  friend." 

On  the  way  uptown  and  across  the  city  the 
girl  managed  to  tell  most  of  her  history.  She 
came  from  a  family  of  means  in  another  city. 
Her  father  was  dead,  but  her  mother  and  a 
brother  were  living.  She  herself  had  a  small 
annuity,  sufficient  to  live  on  modestly,  and  had 
come  to  New  York  seeking  a  career  as  an  artist. 
Her  story,  her  ambitions  appealed  to  Constance, 
who  had  been  somewhat  of  an  artist  herself  and 


THE  SHOPLIFTERS  241 

recognized  even  in  talking  to  the  girl  that  she 
was  not  without  some  ability. 

Then,  too,  she  found  that  Kitty  actually  lived, 
as  she  had  said,  in  a  cozy  little  kitchenette 
apartment  with  two  friends,  a  man  and  his  wife, 
both  of  whom  happened  to  be  out  when  they 
arrived.  As  Constance  looked  about  she  could 
see  clearly  that  there  was  indeed  no  adequate 
reason  why  the  girl  should  steal. 

"  How  do  you  feel!  "  asked  Constance  when 
the  girl  had  sunk  half  exhausted  on  a  couch  in 
the  living  room. 

"  Oh,  so  nervous, "  she  replied,  pressing  her 
hands  to  the  back  of  her  head,  "  and  I  have  a 
terrible  headache,  although  it  is  a  little  better 
now. ' ' 

They  had  talked  for  perhaps  half  an  hour,  as 
Constance  soothed  her,  when  there  was  the 
sound  of  a  key  in  the  door.  A  young  woman  in 
black  entered.  She  was  well-dressed,  in  fact 
elegantly  dressed  in  a  quiet  way,  somewhat 
older  than  Kitty,  but  by  no  means  as  attractive. 

11  Why— hello,  Kitty,"  she  cried,  "what's 
the  matter?  " 

"  Oh,  Annie,  I'm  so  unstrung,"  replied  the 
girl,  then  recollecting  Constance,  added,  "  let 
me  introduce  my  friend,  Mrs.  Dunlap.  This  is 
Mrs.  Annie  Grayson,  who  has  taken  me  in  as  a 
lodger  and  is  ever  so  kind  to  me." 


242  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

Constance  nodded,  and  the  woman  held  out 
her  hand  frankly. 

"  Very  glad  to  meet  you,"  she  said.  "  My 
husband,  Jim,  is  not  at  home,  but  we  are  a  very 
happy  little  family  up  here.  Why,  Kitty,  what 
is  the  matter?  " 

The  girl  had  turned  her  face  down  in  the  sofa 
pillows  and  was  sobbing  again.  Between  sobs 
she  blurted  out  the  whole  of  the  sordid  story. 
And  as  she  proceeded,  Annie  glanced  quickly 
from  her  to  Constance,  for  confirmation. 

Suddenly  she  rose  and  extended  her  hand  to 
Constance. 

"  Mrs.  Dunlap,"  she  said,  "  how  can  I  ever 
thank  you  for  what  you  have  done  for  Kitty! 
She  is  almost  like  a  sister  to  me.  You — you 
were — too  good." 

There  was  a  little  catch  in  the  woman's  voice. 
But  Constance  could  not  quite  make  out 
whether  it  was  acted  or  wholly  genuine. 

"  Did  she  ever  do  anything  like  that  be 
fore?  "  she  asked. 

"  Only  once,"  replied  Annie  Grayson,  "  and 
then  I  gave  her  such  a  talking  to  that  I  thought 
she  would  be  able  to  restrain  herself  when  she 
felt  that  way  again." 

It  was  growing  late  and  Constance  recollected 
that  she  had  an  engagement  for  the  evening. 


THE  SHOPLIFTERS  243 

As  she  rose  to  go  Kitty  almost  overwhelmed 
her  with  embraces. 

"  I'll  keep  in  touch  with  Kitty, "  whispered 
Constance  at  the  door,  ' '  and  if  you  will  let  me 
know  when  anything  comes  up  that  I  may  help 
her  in,  I  shall  thank  you." 

"  Depend  on  me,"  answered  Mrs.  Grayson, 
"  and  I  want  to  add  my  thanks  to  Kitty's  for 
what  you  have  done.  I'll  try  to  help  you." 

As  she  groped  her  way  down  the  as  yet  un- 
lighted  stairs,  Constance  became  aware  of  two 
men  talking  in  the  hall.  As  she  passed  them 
she  thought  she  recognized  one  of  the  voices. 
She  lowered  her  head,  and  fortunately  her  thin 
veil  in  the  half-light  did  the  rest.  She  passed 
unnoticed  and  reached  the  door  of  the  apart 
ment. 

As  she  opened  it  she  heard  the  men  turn  and 
mount  the  stairs.  Instinctively  she  realized  that 
something  was  wrong.  One  of  the  men  was  her 
old  enemy,  Drummond,  the  detective. 

They  had  not  recognized  her,  and  as  she  stood 
for  a  moment  with  her  hand  on  the  knob,  she 
tried  to  reason  it  out.  Then  she  crept  back,  and 
climbed  the  stairs  noiselessly.  Voices  inside  the 
apartment  told  her  that  she  had  not  been  mis 
taken.  It  was  the  apartment  of  the  Graysons 
and  Batty  that  they  sought. 

The  hall  door  was  of  thin,  light  wood,  and  as 


244  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

she  stood  there  she  could  easily  hear  what 
passed  inside. 

6 1  What — is  Kitty  ill  ?  "  she  heard  the  strange 
man's  voice  inquire. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Grayson,  then  her  voice 
trailed  off  into  an  indistinguishable  whisper. 

"  How  are  you,  Kitty?  "  asked  the  man. 

"  Oh,  I  have  a  splitting  headache,  Jim.  I've 
had  it  all  day.  I  could  just  get  up  and — 
screech!  " 

1 '  I  'm  sorry.    I  hope  it  gets  better  soon. ' ' 

'  *  Oh,  I  guesa  it  will.  They  often  go  away  as 
suddenly  as  they  come.  You  know  I've  had 
them  before." 

Drummond's  voice  then  spoke  up. 

"  Did  you  see  the  Trimble  ad.  to-night?  "  he 
asked,  evidently  of  Annie.  *  *  They  have  a  lot  of 
new  diamonds  from  Arkansas,  they  say, — one 
of  them  is  a  big  one,  the  Arkansas  Queen,  I  be 
lieve  they  call  it. ' ' 

"  No,  I  didn't  see  the  papers,"  replied  Annie. 

There  was  the  rustle  of  a  newspaper. 
"  Here's  a  picture  of  it.  It  must  be  great.  I've 
heard  a  good  deal  about  it." 

"  Have  you  seen  it?  "  asked  Annie. 

1 '  No,  but  I  intend  to  see  it. ' ' 

They  had  passed  into  the  next  room,  and  Con 
stance,  fearing  to  be  discovered,  decided  to  get 
away  before  that  happened. 


THE  SHOPLIFTERS  245 

Early  the  next  morning  she  decided  to  call  on 
Kitty,  but  by  the  time  Constance  arrived  at  the 
apartment  it  was  closed,  and  a  neighbor  in 
formed  her  that  the  two  women  had  gone  out 
together  about  half  an  hour  before. 

Constance  was  nervous  and,  as  she  left  the 
apartment,  she  did  not  notice  that  a  man  who 
had  been  loitering  about  had  quickened  his  pace 
and  overtaken  her. 

"  So,"  drawled  a  voice,  "  you're  traveling 
with  shoplifters  now." 

She  looked  up  quickly.  This  time  she  had 
run  squarely  into  Drummond.  There  was  no 
concealment  possible  now.  Her  only  refuge  was 
silence.  She  felt  the  hot  tingle  of  indignation 
in  her  cheeks.  But  she  said  nothing. 

"  Huh!  "  exclaimed  Drummond,  walking 
along  beside  her,  and  adding  contemptuously, 
* '  I  don 't  know  the  young  one,  but  you  know  who 
the  other  is?  " 

Constance  bit  her  lip. 

"  No?  "  he  queried.    "  Then  I'll  show  you." 

He  had  taken  from  his  pocket  a  bunch  of  ob 
long  cards.  Each  bore,  she  could  see  from  the 
corner  of  her  eye,  a  full  face  and  a  profile  pic 
ture  of  a  woman,  and  on  the  back  of  the  card  was 
a  little  writing. 

He  selected  one  and  handed  it  to  Constance. 


246  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

Instantly  she  recognized  the  face.  It  was  Annie 
Grayson,  with  half  a  dozen  aliases  written  after 
the  name. 

"  There!  "  he  fairly  snorted.  "  That's  the 
sort  of  people  your  little  friend  consorts  with. 
Why,  they  call  Annie  Grayson  the  queen  of  the 
shoplifters.  She  has  forgotten  more  about 
shoplifting  than  all  the  rest  will  ever  know." 

Constance  longed  to  ask  him  what  had  taken 
him  to  the  Grayson  flat  the  night  before,  but 
thought  better  of  it.  There  was  no  use  in  anger 
ing  Drummond  further.  Instead,  she  let  him 
think  that  he  had  succeeded  in  frightening  her 
off. 

She  went  back  to  her  own  apartment  to  wait 
and  worry.  Evidently  Drummond  was  pretty 
sure  of  something,  or  he  would  not  have  dis 
closed  his  hand  to  her,  even  partially.  She  felt 
that  she  must  see  Kitty  before  it  was  too  late. 
Then  the  thought  crossed  her  mind  that  per 
haps  already  it  was  too  late.  Drummond  evi 
dently  was  working  in  some  way  for  an  alliance 
of  the  department  stores  outside. 

Constance  had  had  her  own  ideas  about  Kitty. 
And  as  she  waited  and  watched,  she  tried  to 
reason  how  she  might  carry  them  out  if  she  had 
a  chance. 

She  had  just  been  insured,  and  had  been  very 


THE  SHOPLIFTERS  247 

much  interested  in  the  various  tests  that  the 
woman  doctor  of  the  insurance  company  had  ap 
plied  to  her.  One  in  particular  which  involved 
the  use  of  a  little  simple  instrument  that  fitted 
over  the  forearm  had  interested  her  particu 
larly.  She  had  talked  to  the  doctor  about  it, 
and  as  she  talked  an  idea  had  occurred  to  her 
that  it  might  have  other  uses  than  those  which 
the  doctor  made  of  it.  She  had  bought  one. 
While  she  was  waiting  it  occurred  to  her  that 
perhaps  it  might  serve  her  purpose.  She  got 
the  instrument  out.  It  consisted  of  a  little  ar 
rangement  that  fitted  over  the  forearm,  and  was 
attached  by  a  tube  to  a  dial  that  registered  in 
millimeters  a  column  of  mercury.  Would  it 
really  show  anything,  she  wondered? 

There  was  a  quick  call  on  the  telephone  and 
she  answered  it,  her  hand  trembling,  for  she 
felt  sure  that  it  was  something  about  the  little 
woman  she  had  befriended. 

Somehow  or  other  her  voice  hardened  as  she 
answered  the  call  and  found  that  it  was  from 
Drummond.  It  would  never  do  to  betray  even 
nervousness  before  him. 

11  Your  friend,  Miss  Carr,"  shot  out  Drum 
mond  with  brutal  directness,  "  has  been  caught 
again.  She  fell  into  something  as  neatly  as  if 
she  had  really  meant  to  do  it.  Yesterday,  you 
know,  Trimble's  advertised  the  new  diamond, 

17 


248  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

the  Arkansas  Queen,  on  exhibition.  Well,  it 
was  made  of  paste,  anyway.  But  it  was  a  per 
fect  imitation.  But  that  didn't  make  any  dif 
ference.  We  caught  Kitty  just  now  trying  to 
lift  it.  I'm  sorry  it  wasn't  the  other  one.  But 
small  fry  are  better  than  none.  We'll  get  her, 
too,  yet.  Besides,  I  find  this  Kitty  has  a  record 
already  at  Stacy's." 

He  added  the  last  words  with  a  taunting 
sneer.  Constance  realized  suddenly  the  truth. 
The  whole  affair  had  been  a  plant  of  Drum- 
mond's! 

"  You  are  at  Trimble's?  '  she  inquired 
quickly.  ( '  Well,  can  you  wait  there  just  a  few 
minutes?  I'd  like  to  see  Miss  Carr." 

Drummond  promised.  His  acquiescence  in  it 
self  boded  no  good,  but  nevertheless  she  de 
cided  to  go.  As  she  left  her  apartment  hur 
riedly  she  picked  up  the  little  instrument  and 
dropped  it  into  her  hand-bag. 

"  You  see,  it's  no  use,"  almost  chortled 
Drummond  as  Constance  stepped  off  the  ele 
vator  and  opened  the  door  to  a  little  room  at 
Trimble 's  much  like  that  which  she  had  already 
seen  at  Stacy's.  "  A  shoplifter  becomes  habit 
ual  after  twenty-five.  They  get  to  consorting 
with  others  of  their  kind. ' ' 

Kitty  was  sitting  rigidly  motionless  in  a  chair, 


THE  SHOPLIFTERS  249 

staring  straight  ahead,  as  Constance  entered. 
She  gave  a  start  at  the  sight  of  a  familiar  face, 
rose,  and  would  almost  have  fainted  if  Con 
stance  had  not  caught  her.  It  seemed  as  if 
something  had  snapped  in  the  girl's  make-up. 
For  the  first  time  tears  came.  Constance  patted 
her  hand  softly.  The  girl  was  an  enigma.  Was 
she  a  clever  actress — one  minute  hardened  Miss 
Sophisticated,  the  next  appealing  Miss  Inno 
cence  ? 

"  How  did  you — catch  her?  "  asked  Con 
stance  a  moment  later  as  she  found  an  oppor 
tunity  to  talk  to  Drummond  alone. 

1 1  Oh,  she  was  trying  to  substitute  a  paste  re 
plica  for  the  alleged  Arkansas  Queen.  The 
clerk  noticed  the  replica  in  time,  saw  a  little 
spot  of  carbon  on  it — and  she  was  shadowed  and 
arrested  just  as  she  was  leaving  the  store.  Yes, 
they  found  the  other  paste  jewel  on  her.  She 
was  caught  with  the  goods." 

"  Replica?  "  repeated  Constance,  thinking  of 
the  picture  that  had  appeared  in  the  papers  the 
night  before.  ' '  How  could  she  get  a  replica  of 
it?" 

11  How  do  I  know?  "  shrugged  Drummond 
coldly. 

Constance  looked  him  squarely  in  the  eyes. 

"  What  about  Annie  Gray  son?  "  she  asked 
pointblank. 


250  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

"  I  have  taken  care  of  that,"  he  replied 
harshly.  * '  She  is  already  under  arrest,  and 
from  what  I  have  heard  we  may  get  something 
on  her  now.  We  have  a  record  against  the  Carr 
girl.  We  can  use  it  against  her  friend.  We're 
just  about  taking  her  to  the  flat  to  identify  the 
Grayson  woman.  Would  you  like  to  come 
along!  "  he  added  in  a  spirit  of  bravado.  "  I 
think  you  are  a  material  witness  in  the  Stacy 
case,  anyhow." 

Constance  felt  bitterly  her  defeat.  Still  she 
went  with  them.  There  was  always  a  chance 
that  something  might  turn  up. 

As  they  entered  the  door  of  the  kitchenette 
loud  voices  told  them  that  some  one  was  dis 
puting  inside. 

Drummond  strode  in. 

The  sight  of  a  huge  pile  of  stuff  that  two 
strange  men  had  drawn  out  of  drawers  and 
closets  and  stacked  on  the  table  riveted  Con 
stance  's  eyes.  Only  dimly  she  could  hear  that 
Annie  Grayson  was  violently  threatening  Drum 
mond,  who  stood  coolly  surveying  the  scene. 

The  stuff  on  the  table  was,  in  fact,  quite 
enough  to  dazzle  the  eyes.  There  were  articles 
of  every  sort  and  description  there — silks,  laces, 
jewelry  and  trinkets,  little  antiques,  even  rare 
books — everything  small  and  portable,  some  of 
the  richest  and  most  exquisite,  others  of  the 


THE  SHOPLIFTERS  251 

cheapest  and  most  tawdry.  It  was  a  truly  re 
markable  collection,  which  the  raiding  detec 
tives  had  brought  to  light. 

As  Constance  took  in  the  scene — the  raiding 
detectives  holding  the  stormy  Annie  Grayson  at 
bay,  Drummond,  cool,  supercilious,  Kitty  al 
most  on  the  edge  of  collapse — she  wondered 
how  Jim  Grayson  had  managed  to  slip  through 
the  meshes  of  the  net. 

She  had  read  of  such  things.  Annie  Grayson 
was  to  all  appearances  a  "  fence  "  for  stolen 
goods.  This  was,  perhaps,  a  school  for  shop 
lifters.  In  addition  to  her  other  accomplish 
ments,  the  queen  of  the  shoplifters  was  a 
*  *  Fagin, ' '  educating  others  to  the  tricks  of  her 
trade,  taking  advantage  of  their  lack  of  facility 
in  disposing  of  the  stolen  goods. 

Just  then  the  woman  caught  sight  of  Con 
stance  standing  in  the  doorway. 

In  an  instant  she  had  broken  loose  and  ran 
toward  her. 

"  What  are  you,"  she  hissed,  "  one  of  these 
department  store  Moll  Dicks,  too?  " 

Quick  as  a  flash  Kitty  Carr  had  leaped  to  her 
feet  and  placed  herself  between  them. 

"  No,  Annie,  no.  She  was  a  real  friend  of 
mine.  No — if  your  own  friends  had  been  as 
loyal  as  she  was  to  me  this  would  never  have 


252  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

happened — I  should  never  have  been  caught 
again,  for  I  should  never  have  given  them  a 
chance  to  get  it  on  me," 

"  Little  fool!  "  ground  out  Annie  Grayson, 
raising  her  arm. 

"  Here — here — ladies!  "  interposed  Drum- 
mond,  protruding  an  r.rm  between  the  two,  and 
winking  sarcastically  to  the  two  other  men. 
"  None  of  that.  We  shall  need  both  of  you  in 
our  business.  I  Ve  no  objection  to  your  talking ; 
but  cut  cut  the  rough  stuff. ' ' 

Constance  had  stepped  back.  She  was  cool, 
cool  as  Drummond,  although  she  knew  her  heart 
was  thumping  like  a  sledge-hammer.  There  was 
Kitty  Carr,  in  a  revulsion  of  feeling,  her  hands 
pressed  tightly  to  her  head  again,  as  if  it  were 
bursting.  She  was  swaying  as  if  she  would 
faint. 

Constance  caught  her  gently  about  the  waist 
and  forced  her  down  on  the  couch  where  she  had 
been  lying  the  night  before.  With  her  back  to 
the  others,  she  reached  quickly  into  her  hand 
bag  and  pulled  out  the  little  instrument  she  had 
hastily  stuffed  into  it.  Deftly  she  fastened  it  to 
Kitty's  wrist  and  forearm. 

She  dropped  down  on  her  knees  beside  the 
poor  girl,  and  gently  stroked  her  free  hand,  re 
assuring  her  in  a  low  tone. 

"  There,  there/'  she  soothed.    "  You  are  not 


THE  SHOPLIFTERS  253 

well,  Kitty.    Perhaps,  after  all,  there  may  be 
something — some  explanation.  ' ' 

In  spite  of  all,  however,  Kitty  was  on  the 
verge  of  the  wildest  hysterics.  Annie  Grayson 
sniffed  contemptuously  at  such  weakness. 

Drummond  came  over,  an  exasperating  sneer 
on  his  face.  As  he  looked  down  he  saw  what 
Constance  was  doing,  and  she  rose,  so  that  all 
could  see  now. 

1 '  This  girl, ' '  she  said,  speaking  rapidly,  ' '  is 
afflicted  with  a  nervous  physical  disorder,  a 
mania,  which  is  uncontrollable,  and  takes  this 
outlet.  It  is  emotional  insanity — not  loss  of 
control  of  the  will,  but  perversion  of  the  will.'* 

"  Humph!  "  was  Drummond 's  sole  comment 
with  a  significant  glance  at  the  pile  of  goods  on 
the  table. 

"  It  is  not  the  articles  themselves  so  much,*' 
went  on  Constance,  following  his  glance, ' '  as  it 
is  the  pleasure,  the  excitement,  the  satisfaction 
— call  it  what  you  will — of  taking  them.  A  thief 
works  for  the  benefit  he  may  derive  from  objects 
stolen  after  he  gets  them.  Here  is  a  girl  who 
apparently  has  no  further  use  for  an  article 
after  she  gets  it,  who  forgets,  perhaps  hates 
it." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  remarked  Drummond;  "  but  why 
are  they  all  so  careful  not  to  get  caught?  Every 


254  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

one  is  responsible  who  knows  the  nature  and 
consequences  of  his  act. ' ' 

Constance  had  wheeled  about. 

"  That  is  not  so,"  she  exclaimed.  "  Any 
modern  alienist  will  tell  you  that.  Sometimes 
the  chief  mark  of  insanity  may  be  knowing  the 
nature  and  consequences,  craftily  avoiding  de 
tection  with  an  almost  superhuman  cunning. 
No ;  the  test  is  whether  knowing  the  nature  and 
consequences,  a  person  suffers  under  such  a  de 
fect  of  will  that  in  spite  of  everything,  in  the 
face  of  everything,  that  person  cannot  control 
that  will." 

As  she  spoke,  she  had  quickly  detached  the 
little  instrument  and  had  placed  it  on  Annie 
Grayson's  arm.  If  it  had  been  a  Bertillon  cam 
era,  or  even  a  finger-print  outfit,  Annie  Grayson 
would  probably  have  fought  like  a  tigress.  But 
this  thing  was  a  new  one-.  She  had  a  peculiar 
spirit  of  bravado. 

"  Such  terms  as  kleptomania,"  went  on  Con 
stance,  "  are  often  regarded  as  excuses  framed 
up  by  the  experts  to  cover  up  plain  ordinary 
stealing.  But  did  you  wiseacres  of  crime  ever 
stop  to  think  that  perhaps  they  do  actually  ex 
ist? 

* '  There  are  many  things  that  distinguish  such 
a  woman  as  I  have  described  to  you  from  a 
common  thief.  There  is  the  insane  desire  to 


THE  SHOPLIFTERS  255 

steal — merely  for  stealing's  sake — a  morbid 
craving.  Of  course  in  a  sense  it  is  stealing. 
But  it  is  persistent,  incorrigible,  irrational,  mo 
tiveless,  useless. 

"  Stop  and  think  about  it  a  moment,"  she 
concluded,  lowering  her  voice  and  taking  ad 
vantage  of  the  very  novelty  of  the  situation  she 
had  created.  "  Such  diseases  are  the  product 
of  civilization,  of  sensationalism.  Naturally 
enough,  then,  woman,  with  her  delicately  bal 
anced  nervous  organization,  is  the  first  and 
chief  offender — if  you  insist  on  calling  such 
a  person  an  offender  under  your  antiquated 
methods  of  dealing  with  such  cases." 

She  had  paused. 

"  What  did  you  say  you  called  this  thing?  " 
asked  Drummond  as  he  tapped  the  arrange 
ment  on  Annie  Gray  son's  arm. 

He  was  evidently  not  much  impressed  by  it, 
yet  somehow  instinctively  regarded  it  with 
somewhat  of  the  feelings  of  an  elephant  toward 
a  mouse. 

"  That?  "  answered  Constance,  taking  it  off 
Annie  Grayson's  wrist  before  she  could  do  any 
thing  with  it.  "  Why,  I  don't  know  that  I 
said  anything  about  it.  It  is  really  a  sphyg- 
momanometer — the  little  expert  witness  that 
never  lies — one  of  the  instruments  the  insur 
ance  companies  use  now  to  register  blood 


256  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

pressure  and  discover  certain  diseases.  It  oc 
curred  to  me  that  it  might  be  put  to  other  and 
equally  practical  uses.  For  no  one  can  con 
ceal  the  emotions  from  this  instrument,  not 
even  a  person  of  cast-iron  nerves." 

She  had  placed  it  on  Drummond's  arm.  He 
appeared  fascinated. 

"  See  how  it  works'?  "  she  went  on.  "  You 
see  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  millimeters 
is  the  normal  pressure.  Kitty  Carr  is  abso 
lutely  abnormal.  I  do  not  know,  but  I  think 
that  she  suffers  from  periodical  attacks  of 
vertigo.  Almost  all  kleptomaniacs  do.  Dur 
ing  an  attack  they  are  utterly  irresponsible." 

Drummond  was  looking  at  the  thing  care 
fully.  Constance  turned  to  Annie  Grayson. 

"  "Where's  your  husband?  "  she  asked  off 
hand. 

11  Oh,  he  disappeared  as  soon  as  these  de 
partment  store  dicks  showed  up,"  she  replied 
bitterly.  She  had  been  watching  Constance 
narrowly,  quite  nonplussed,  and  unable  to 
make  anything  out  of  what  was  going  on. 

Constance  looked  at  Drummond  inquiringly. 

He  shook  his  head  slowly.  "I'm  afraid 
we'll  never  catch  him,"  he  said.  "  He  got  the 
jump  on  us — although  we  have  our  lines  out 
for  him,  too. ' ' 

She  had  glanced  down  quickly  at  the  little 


THE  SHOPLIFTERS  257 

innocent-looking    but    telltale    sphygmomano- 
meter. 

"You  lie!"  she  exclaimed  suddenly,  with 
all  the  vigor  of  a  man. 

She  was  pointing  at  the  quivering  little 
needle  which  registered  a  sudden  access  of  emo 
tion  totally  concealed  by  the  sang-froid  of 
Drummond's  well-schooled  exterior. 

She  wrenched  the  thing  off  his  wrist  and 
dropped  it  into  her  bag.  A  moment  later  she 
stood  by  the  open  window  facing  the  street, 
a  bright  little  police  whistle  gleaming  in  her 
hand,  ready  for  its  shrill  alarm  if  any  move 
were  made  to  cut  short  what  she  had  to  say. 

She  was  speaking  rapidly  now. 

* '  You  see,  I  Ve  had  it  on  all  of  you,  one  after 
another,  and  each  has  told  me  your  story,  just 
enough  of  it  for  me  to  piece  it  together.  Kitty 
is  suffering  from  a  form  of  vertigo,  an  insanity, 
kleptomania,  the  real  thing.  As  for  you,  Mr. 
Drummond,  you  were  in  league  with  the  alleged 
husband — your  own  stool  pigeon — to  catch 
Annie  Grayson." 

Drummond  moved.  So  did  the  whistle.  He 
stopped. 

11  But  she  was  too  clever  for  you  all.  She 
was  not  caught,  even  by  a  man  who  lived  with 


258  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

her  as  her  own  husband.  For  she  was  not  oper 
ating.  ' ' 

Annie  Grayson  moved  as  if  to  face  out  her 
accusers  at  this  sudden  turn  of  fortune. 

"  One  moment,  Annie,"  cut  in  Constance. 
' '  And  yet,  you  are  the  real  shoplifter,  after  all. 
You  fell  into  the  trap  which  Drummond  laid  for 
you.  I  take  pleasure,  Mr.  Drummond,  in  pre 
senting  you  with  better  evidence  than  even  your 
own  stool  pigeon  could  possibly  have  given  you 
under  the  circumstances." 

She  paused. 

11  For  myself,"  she  concluded,  "  I  claim 
Kitty  Carr.  I  claim  the  right  to  take  her,  to 
have  her  treated  for  her — her  disease.  I  claim 
it  because  the  real  shoplifter,  the  queen  of  the 
shoplifters,  Annie  Grayson,  has  worked  out  a 
brand-new  scheme,  taking  up  a  true  klepto 
maniac  and  using  her  insanity  to  carry  out  the 
stealings  which  she  suggested — and  safely,  to 
this  point,  has  profited  by!  " 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  BLACKMAILERS 

"  THEY 'BE  late  this  afternoon.'* 

"  Yes.  I  think  they  might  be  on  time.  I 
wish  they  had  made  the  appointment  in  a 
quieter  place." 

' l  What  do  you  care,  Anita  ?  Probably  some 
body  else  is  doing  the  same  thing  somewhere 
else.  What's  sauce  for  the  gander  is  sauce  for 
the  goose." 

1 1  I  know  he  has  treated  me  like  a  dog,  Alice, 
but—" 

There  was  just  a  trace  of  a  catch  in  the  voice 
of  the  second  woman  as  she  broke  off  the  re 
mark  and  left  it  unfinished. 

Constance  Dunlap  had  caught  the  words  un 
intentionally  above  the  hum  of  conversation 
and  the  snatches  of  tuneful  music  wafted  from 
the  large  dining-room  where  day  was  being 
turned  into  night. 

She  had  dropped  into  the  fashionable  new 
Vanderveer  Hotel,  not  to  meet  any  one,  but 
because  she  liked  to  watch  the  people  in  "  Pea- 

259 


260  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

cock  Alley,"  as  the  corridor  of  the  hotel  was 
often  popularly  called. 

Somehow,  as  she  sat  inconspicuously  in  a 
deep  chair  in  an  angle,  she  felt  that  very  few 
of  the  gaily  chatting  couples  or  of  the  waiting 
men  and  women  about  her  were  quite  what 
they  seemed  on  the  surface. 

The  conversation  from  around  the  angle 
confirmed  her  opinion.  Here,  apparently  at 
least,  were  two  young  married  women  with  a 
grievance,  and  it  was  not  for  those  against 
whom  they  had  the  grievance,  real  or  imagined, 
that  they  were  waiting  so  anxiously. 

Constance  leaned  forward  to  see  them  bet 
ter.  The  woman  nearest  her  was  a  trifle 
the  elder  of  the  two,  a  very  attractive-look 
ing  woman,  tastefully  gowned  and  carefully 
groomed.  The  younger,  who  had  been  the 
first  speaker,  was,  perhaps,  the  more  dashing. 
Certainly  she  appeared  to  be  the  more  sophis 
ticated.  And  as  Constance  caught  her  eye  she 
involuntarily  thought  of  the  old  proverb, 
"  Never  trust  a  man  who  doesn't  look  you  in 
the  eye  or  a  woman  who  does. ' ' 

Two  men  sauntered  down  the  long  corridor, 
on  the  way  from  a  visit  to  the  bar.  As  they 
caught  sight  of  the  two  ladies,  there  was  a 
smile  of  recognition,  an  exchange  of  remarks 


THE  BLACKMAILERS  261 

between  each  pair,  and  the  men  hurried  in  the 
direction  of  the  corner. 

They  greeted  the  two  ladies  in  low,  banter 
ing,  familiar  terms — "  Mr.  Smith,"  "  Mrs. 
Jones,"  "  Mr.  White  "  and  "  Mrs.  Brown. " 

"  You  got  my  card?  "  asked  one  of  the  men 
of  the  woman  nearest  Constance.  "  Sorry 
we're  late,  but  a  business  friend  ran  into  us 
as  we  were  coming  in  and  I  had  to  shunt  him 
off  in  the  other  direction." 

He  nodded  toward  the  opposite  end  of  the 
corridor  with  a  laugh. 

"  You've  been  bad  boys,"  pouted  the  other 
woman,  "  but  we  forgive  you — this  time." 

"  Perhaps  we  may  hope  to  be  reinstated 
after  a  little — er — tea — and  a  dance  ?  ' '  sug 
gested  the  other  man. 

The  four  were  all  moving  in  the  direction  of 
the  dining-room  and  the  gay  music. 

They  had  disappeared  in  the  crush  about  the 
door  before  Constance  noticed  that  the  woman 
who  had  been  sitting  nearest  her  had  dropped 
an  envelope.  She  picked  it  up.  It  was  on  the 
stationery  of  another  fashionable  hotel,  evi 
dently  written  by  one  of  those  who  lounge  in 
and  on  the  strength  of  a  small  bill  in  the  csfl 
use  the  writing  room.  In  a  man's  hand  was 
the  name,  "  Mrs.  Anita  Douglas,  The  Mel- 
combe  Apartments,  City-" 


262  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

Before  she  realized  it,  Constance  had  pulled 
out  the  card  inside  and  glanced  at  it.  It  read: 

MY  DEAREST  A  -  : 

Can  you  meet  us  in  the  Vanderveer  to-mor 
row  afternoon  at  four?  Bring  along  your  lit 
tle  friend. 

With  many 

Yours, 


Mechanically  Constance  crumpled  the  card 
and  the  envelope  in  her  hand  and  held  them  as 
she  regarded  the  passing  throng,  intending  to 
throw  them  away  when  she  passed  a  scrap 
basket  on  the  way  out. 

Still,  it  was  a  fascinating  scene,  this  of  the 
comedy  and  tragedy  of  human  weaknesses, 
and  she  stayed  much  longer  than  she  had  in 
tended.  One  by  one  the  people  had  either 
gone  to  dinner  in  the  main  dining-room  or 
elsewhere  and  Constance  had  nearly  decided 
on  going,  too. 

She  was  looking  down  the  corridor  toward 
the  desk  when  she  saw  something  that  caused 
her  to  change  her  mind.  There  was  the  young 
lady  who  had  been  talking  so  flippantly  to  the 
woman  with  a  grievance,  and  she  was  now 
talking,  of  all  people,  to  Drummond! 


THE  BLACKMAILERS  263 

Constance  shrank  back  into  her  wicker  chair 
in  the  protecting  angle.  What  did  it  mean? 
If  Drummond  had  anything  to  do  with  it, 
even  remotely,  it  boded  no  good,  at  least. 

Suddenly  a  possible  explanation  crossed  her 
mind.  Was  it  a  side-light  upon  that  peculiar 
industry  of  divorce  as  practiced  in  no  place 
except  New  York? 

It  was  not  only  that  Constance  longed  for, 
lived  by  excitement.  She  felt  a  sense  of  curi 
osity  as  to  what  the  detective  was  up  to  now. 
And,  somehow,  she  felt  a  duty  in  the  case.  She 
determined  to  return  the  envelope  and  card, 
and  meet  the  woman.  And  the  more  she 
thought  of  it  the  more  imperative  became  the 
idea. 

So  it  came  about  that  the  following  forenoon 
Constance  sought  out  the  Melcombe  Apart 
ments,  a  huge  stone  and  brick  affair  on  a  street 
which  the  uptown  trend  of  population  was 
transforming. 

Anita  Douglas,  she  had  already  found  out 
by  an  inquiry  or  two,  was  the  wife  of  a  well- 
known  business  man.  Yet,  as  she  entered  the 
little  apartment,  she  noticed  that  there  was  no 
evidence  about  it  of  a  man's  presence. 

Mrs.  Douglas  greeted  her  unexpected  visitor 
with  an  inquiring  look. 

18 


264  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

"  I  was  passing  through  the  corridor  of  the 
Vanderveer  yesterday  afternoon,"  began  Con 
stance,  leaping  into  the  middle  of  her  errand, 
"  and  I  happened  to  see  this  envelope  lying  on 
the  carpet.  I  thought  first  of  destroying  it; 
then  that  perhaps  you  would  rather  destroy  it 
yourself. ' ' 

Mrs.  Douglas  almost  pounced  on  the  letter 
as  Constance  handed  it  to  her.  "  Thank  you," 
she  exclaimed.  "  It  was  very  thoughtful  of 
you." 

For  a  moment  or  two  they  chatted  of  incon 
sequential  things. 

"  Who  was  your  friend?  "  asked  Constance 
at  length. 

The  woman  caught  her  breath  and  flushed  a 
bit,  evidently  wondering  just  how  much  Con 
stance  really  knew. 

"  The  young  lady,"  added  Constance,  who 
had  put  the  question  in  this  form  purposely. 

"  Why  do  you  ask?  "  Mrs.  Douglas  inquired 
in  a  tone  that  betrayed  considerable  relief. 

"  Because  I  can  tell  you  something  of  her, 
I  think." 

"  A  friend  of  mine — a  Mrs.  Murray. 
Why?  " 

"  Aren't  you  just  a  little  bit  afraid  of — er — 
friends  that  you  may  chance  to  make  in  the 
city?  "  queried  Constance. 


THE  BLACKMAILERS  265 

"  Afraid?  "  repeated  the  other. 

"  Yes,"  said  Constance,  coming  gradually 
to  the  point.  "  You  know  there  are  so  many 
detectives  about." 

Mrs.  Douglas  laughed  half  nervously.  "  Oh, 
I've  been  shadowed,"  she  replied  confidently. 
"  I  know  how  to  shake  them  off.  If  you  can't 
do  anything  else,  you  can  always  take  a  taxi. 
Besides,  I  think  I  can  uncover  almost  any 
shadow.  All  you  have  to  do,  if  you  think 
you're  being  shadowed,  is  to  turn  a  corner  and 
stop.  That  uncovers  the  shadow  as  soon  as  he 
comes  up  to  the  corner,  and  after  that  he  is  use 
less.  You  know  him. ' ' 

"  That's  all  right,"  nodded  Constance; 
"  but  you  don't  know  these  crooked  detectives 
nowadays  as  I  do.  They  can  fake  up  evidence 
to  order.  That  is  their  business,  you  know, 
to  manufacture  it.  You  may  uncover  a  six- 
dollar  operative,  Mrs.  Douglas,  but  are  you 
the  equal  of  a  twenty-dollar-a-day  investi 
gator?  " 

The  woman  looked  genuinely  scared.  Evi 
dently  Constance  knew  some  things  she  didn't 
know,  at  least  about  detectives. 

"  You — you  don't  think  there  is  anything 
like  that,  do  you!  "  she  asked  anxiously. 

"  Well,"  replied  Constance  slowly  to  im^ 
press  her,  "  I  saw  your  friend,  Mrs.  Murray, 


266  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

after  you  had  left  the  Vanderveer,  talking  to 
a  detective  whom  I  have  every  reason  to  fear 
as  one  of  the  most  unscrupulous  in  the  game." 

"Oh,  that  is  impossible!"  persisted  Mrs. 
Douglas. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  pursued  Constance. 
"  Think  it  over  for  a  moment.  Who  would  be 
the  last  person  a  man  or  woman  would  suspect 
of  being  a  detective?  Why,  just  such  an  at 
tractive  young  woman,  of  course.  You  see,  it 
is  just  this  way.  They  reason  that  if  they  can 
only  get  acquainted  with  people  the  rest  is 
easy.  For,  people,  under  the  right  circum 
stances,  will  tell  everything  they  know." 

The  woman  was  staring  at  Constance. 

"  For  example,"  urged  Constance,  "I'm 
talking  to  you  now  as  if  I  had  known  you  for 
years.  Why, '  Mrs.  Douglas,  men  tell  their 
most  important  business  secrets  to  chance 
luncheon  and  dinner  companions  whom  they 
think  have  no  direct  or  indirect  interest  in 
them.  Over  tea-tables  women  tell  their  most 
intimate  personal  affairs.  In  fact,  all  you 
have  to  do  is  to  keep  your  ears  open." 

Mrs.  Douglas  had  risen  and  was  nervously 
watching  Constance,  who  saw  that  she  had 
made  an  impression  and  that  all  that  was  nec 
essary  was  to  follow  it  up. 


THE  BLACKMAILERS  267 

"  Now,  for  instance,"  added  Constance 
quickly,  "  you  say  she  is  a  friend  of  yours. 
How  did  you  meet  her?  " 

Mrs.  Douglas  did  not  raise  her  eyes  to  Con 
stance 's  now.  Yet  she  seemed  to  feel  that 
Constance  was  different  from  other  chance  ac 
quaintances,  to  feel  a  sort  of  confidence,  and 
to  want  to  meet  frankness  with  frankness. 

"  One  day  I  was  with  a  friend  of  mine  at 
the  new  Palais  de  Maxixe,"  she  answered  in  a 
low  voice  as  if  making  a  confession.  "  A 
woman  in  the  dressing-room  borrowed  a  cigar 
ette.  You  know  they  often  do  that.  We  got 
talking,  and  it  seemed  that  we  had  much  in 
common  in  our  lives.  Before  I  went  back  to 
him—" 

She  bit  her  lip.  She  had  evidently  not  in 
tended  to  admit  that  she  knew  any  other  men. 
Constance,  however,  appeared  not  to  notice 
the  slip. 

"  I  had  arranged  to  meet  her  at  luncheon 
the  next  day,"  she  continued  hastily.  "  We 
have  been  friends  ever  since." 

"  You  went  to  luncheon  with  her,  and — " 
Constance  prompted. 

"  Oh,  she  told  me  her  story.  It  was  very 
much  like  my  own — a  husband  who  was  a  per 
fect  bear,  and  then  gossip  about  him  that  so 


268  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

many  people,  besides  his  own  wife,  seemed  to 
know,  and — " 

Constance  shook  her  head.  "  Eeally,"  she 
observed  thoughtfully,  "it's  a  wonder  to  me 
how  any  one  stays  married  these  days.  Some 
body  is  always  mixing  in,  getting  one  or  the 
other  so  wrought  up  that  they  get  to  thinking 
there  is  no  possibility  of  happiness.  That's 
where  the  crook  detective  comes  in." 

Anita  Douglas,  confidence  established  now, 
poured  out  her  story  unreservedly,  as  there 
was  little  reason  why  she  should  not,  a  story 
of  the  refined  brutality  and  neglect  and  inhu 
manity  of  her  husband. 

She  told  of  her  own  first  suspicions  of  him, 
of  a  girl  who  had  been  his  stenographer,  a 
Miss  Helen  Brett. 

But  he  was  careful.  There  had  never  been 
any  direct,  positive  evidence  against  him. 
Still,  there  was  enough  to  warrant  a  separa 
tion  and  the  payment  to  her  of  an  allow 
ance. 

They  had  lived,  she  said,  in  a  pretty  little 
house  in  the  suburb  of  Glenclair,  near  New 
York.  Now  that  they  were  separated,  she  had 
taken  a  little  kitchenette  apartment  at  the  new 
Melcombe.  Her  husband  was  living  in  the 
house,  she  believed,  when  he  was  not  in  the 


THE  BLACKMAILERS  269 

city  at  his  club,  "  or  elsewhere,"  she  added 
bitterly. 

"  But,"  she  confided  as  she  finished,  "it  is 
very  lonely  here  in  a  big  city  all  alone. ' ' 

11  I  know  it  is,"  agreed  Constance  sympa 
thetically  as  they  parted.  "  I,  too,  am  often 
very  lonely.  Call  on  me,  especially  if  you  find 
anything  crooked  going  on.  Call  on  me,  any 
how.  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  you  any  time." 

The  words,  "  anything  crooked  going  on," 
rang  in  Mrs.  Douglas's  ears  long  after  the  ele 
vator  door  had  clanged  shut  and  her  new 
friend  had  gone.  She  was  visibly  perturbed. 
And  the  more  she  thought  about  it  the  more 
perturbed  she  became. 

She  had  carried  on  a  mild,  then  an  ardent, 
flirtation  with  the  man  who  had  introduced 
himself  as  "  Mr.  White  " — really  Lynn  Munro. 
But  she  relied  on  her  woman's  instinct  in  her 
judgment  of  him.  No,  she  felt  sure  that  he 
could  not  be  other  than  she  thought.  But  as 
for  Alice  Murray  and  her  friend  whom  she 
had  met  at  the  Palais  de  Maxixe — well,  she  was 
forced  to  admit  that  she  did  not  know,  that 
Constance's  warning  might,  after  all,  be  true. 

Munro  had  had  to  run  out  of  town  for  a 
few  days  on  a  business  trip.  That  she  knew, 
for  it  had  been  the  reason  why  he  had  wanted 
to  see  her  before  he  went. 


270  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

He  had,  in  fact,  spent  the  evening  in  her 
company,  after  the  other  couple  had  excused 
themselves  on  one  pretext  or  another. 

She  called  up  Alice  Murray  at  the  number 
she  had  given.  She  was  not  there.  In  fact,  no 
one  seemed  to  know  when  she  would  be  there. 
It  was  strange,  because  always  before  it  had 
seemed  possible  to  get  her  at  any  moment,  al 
most  instantly.  That,  too,  worried  her. 

She  tried  to  get  the  thing  out  of  her  mind, 
but  she  could  not.  She  had  a  sort  of  forebod 
ing  that  her  new  friend  had  not  spoken  with 
out  reason,  a  feeling  of  insecurity  as  though 
something  were  impending  over  her. 

The  crisis  came  sooner  than  even  Constance 
had  anticipated  when  she  called  on  Anita 
Douglas.  It  was  early  in  the  afternoon,  while 
Anita  was  still  brooding,  that  a  strange  man 
called  on  her.  Instinctively  she  seemed  to  di 
vine  that  he  was  a  detective.  He,  at  least,  had 
the  look. 

"  My  name,"  he  introduced  himself,  "  is 
Drummond." 

Drummond  paused  and  glanced  about  as  if 
to  make  sure  that  he  could  by  no  possibility  be 
overheard. 

"  I  have  called, "  he  continued,  "  on  a  rather 
delicate  matter." 


THE  BLACKMAILERS  271 

He  paused  for  effect,  then  went  on: 

"  Some  time  ago  I  was  employed  by  Mr. 
Douglas  to — er — to  watch  his  wife." 

He  was  watching  her  narrowly  to  see  what 
effect  his  sudden  remark  would  have  on  her. 
She  was  speechless. 

"  Since  then,"  he  added  quietly,  "  I  have 
watched,  I  have  seen — what  I  have  seen." 

Drummond  had  faced  her.  Somehow  the 
effect  of  his  words  was  more  potent  on  her 
than  if  he  had  not  accused  her  by  indirection* 
Still  she  said  nothing. 

"  I  can  suppress  it,"  he  insinuated. 

Her  heart  was  going  like  a  trip-hammer. 

"  But  it  will  cost  something  to  do  that." 

Here  was  a  straw — she  caught  at  it  eagerly. 

"  Cost  something?  '  she  repeated,  facing 
him.  "  How  much?  " 

Drummond  never  took  his  eyes  from  her 
anxious  face. 

"  I  was  to  get  a  fee  of  one  thousand  dollars 
if  I  obtained  some  letters  that  had  passed  from 
her  to  a  man  named  Lynn  Munro.  He  has  gone 
out  of  town — has  left  his  rooms  unguarded.  I 
have  the  letters." 

She  felt  a  sinking  sensation.  One  thousand 
dollars ! 

Suddenly  the  truth  of  the  situation  flashed 
over  her.  He  had  come  with  an  offer  that  set 


272  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

her  bidding  against  her  husband  for  the  let 
ters.  And  in  a  case  of  dollars  her  husband 
would  win.  One  thousand  dollars!  It  was 
blackmail. 

"  I — I  can't  afford  it,"  she  pleaded  weakly. 
"  Can't  you  make  it — less?  " 

Drummond  shook  his  head.  Already  he  had 
learned  what  he  had  come  to  learn.  She  did 
not  have  the  money. 

' '  No, ' '  he  replied  positively,  adding,  by  way 
of  inserting  the  knife  and  turning  it  around, 
"  I  shall  have  to  turn  the  letters  over  to  him 
to-day." 

She  drew  herself  up.  At  least  she  could  fight 
back. 

11  But  you  can't  prove  anything,"  she  cut  in 
quickly. 

"  Can't  I?  he  returned.  "  The  letters  don't 
speak  for  themselves,  do  they?  You  don't 
realize  that  this  interview  helps  to  prove  it,  do 
you?  An  innocent  woman  wouldn't  have  con 
sidered  my  offer,  much  less  plead  with  me. 
Bah!  can't  prove  anything.  Why,  it's  all  in 
plain  black  and  white!  ' 

Drummond  flicked  the  ashes  from  his  cigar 
into  the  fireplace  as  he  rose  to  go.  At  the  door 
he  turned  for  one  parting  shot. 

"  I  have  all  the  evidence  I  need,"  he  con 
cluded.  "  I've  got  the  goods  on  you.  To-night 


THE  BLACKMAILERS  273 

it  will  be  locked  in  his  safe — documentary  evi 
dence.  If  you  should  change  your  mind — you 
can  reach  me  at  his  office.  Call  under  an  as 
sumed  name — Mrs.  Green,  perhaps." 

He  was  gone,  with  a  mocking  smile  at  the 
parting  shot. 

Anita  Douglas  saw  it  all  now.  Things  had 
not  been  going  fast  enough  to  suit  her  new 
friend,  Mrs.  Murray.  So,  after  a  time,  she  had 
begun  to  tell  of  her  own  escapades  and  to  try  to 
get  Anita  to  admit  that  she  had  had  similar 
adventures.  It  was  a  favorite  device  of  detec 
tives,  working  under  the  new  psychological 
method  by  use  of  the  law  of  suggestion. 

She  had  introduced  herself,  had  found  out 
about  Lynn  Munro,  and  in  some  way,  after  he 
had  left  town,  had  got  the  letters.  Was  he  in 
the  plot,  too?  She  could  not  believe  it. 

Suddenly  the  thought  came  to  her  that  the 
blackmailers  might  give  her  husband  material 
that  would  look  very  black  if  a  suit  for  divorce 
came  up  in  court. 

What  if  he  were  able  to  cut  off  her  little  al 
lowance?  She  trembled  at  the  thought  of  be 
ing  thus  cast  adrift  on  the  world. 

Anita  Douglas  did  not  know  which  way  to 
turn.  In  her  dilemma  she  thought  only  of 
Constance.  She  hurried  to  her. 


274  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

"  It  was  as  you  said,  a  frame-up,"  she 
blurted  out,  as  she  entered  Constance's  apart 
ment,  then  in  the  same  breath  added,  "  That 
Mrs.  Murray  was  just  a  stool  pigeon." 

Constance  received  her  sympathetically. 
She  had  expected  such  a  visit,  though  not  so 
soon. 

"  Just  how  much  do  they — know?  "  she 
asked  pointedly. 

Anita  had  pressed  her  hands  together  ner 
vously.  "  Really — I  confess,"  she  murmured, 
1 1  indiscretions — yes ;  misconduct — no !  ' 

She  spoke  the  last  words  defiantly.  Con 
stance  listened  eagerly,  though  she  did  not  be 
tray  it. 

She  had  found  out  that  it  was  a  curious  twist 
in  feminine  psychology  that  the  lie  under  such 
circumstances  was  a  virtue,  that  it  showed  that 
there  was  hope  for  such  a  woman.  Admission 
of  the  truth,  even  to  a  friend,  would  have  shown 
that  the  woman  was  hopelessly  lost.  Lie  or 
not,  Constance  felt  in  her  inmost  heart  that  she 
approved  of  it. 

"  Still,  it  looks  badly,"  she  remarked. 

"  Perhaps  it  does — on  the  surface,"  per 
sisted  Anita. 

"  You  poor  dear  creature,"  soothed  Con 
stance.  "  I  don't  say  I  blame  you  for  your — 


THE  BLACKMAILERS  275 

indiscreet  friendships.  You  are  more  sinned 
against  than  sinning." 

Sympathy  had  its  effect.  Anita  was  now 
sobbing  softly,  as  Constance  stole  her  arm 
about  her  waist 

"  The  next  question,"  she  reasoned,  consid 
ering  aloud,  "  is,  of  course,  what  to  do?  If  it 
was  just  one  of  these  blackmailing  detective 
cases  it  would  be  common,  but  still  very  hard 
to  deal  with.  There's  a  lot  of  such  blackmail 
ing  going  on  in  New  York.  Next  to  business 
and  political  cases,  I  suppose,  it  is  the  private 
detective's  most  important  graft.  Nearly 
everybody  has  a  past — although  few  are  will 
ing  to  admit  it.  The  graft  lies  in  the  fact  that 
people  talk  so  much,  are  so  indiscreet,  take  such 
reckless  chances.  It's  a  wonder,  really,  that 
there  isn't  more  of  it." 

"  Yet  there  is  the — evidence,  as  he  called 
it — my  letters  to  Lynn — and  the  reports  that 
that  woman  must  have  made  of  our — our  con 
versations,"  groaned  Anita.  "  How  they  may 
distort  it  all!  " 

Constance  was  thinking  rapidly. 

"It  is  now  after  four  o'clock,"  she  said 
finally,  looking  at  her  wrist  watch.  "  You  say 
it  was  not  half  an  hour  ago  that  Drummond 
called  on  you.  He  must  be  downtown  about 
now.  Your  husband  will  hardly  have  a  chance 


276  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

more  than  to  glance  over  the  papers  this  after 
noon.*' 

Suddenly  an  idea  seemed  to  occur  to  her. 
"  What  do  you  suppose  he  will  do  with  them?  " 
she  asked. 

Mrs.  Douglas  looked  up  through  her  tears, 
calmer.  "  He  is  very  methodical,"  she  an 
swered  slowly.  "If  I  know  him  rightly,  I 
think  he  will  probably  go  out  to  Glenclair  with 
them  to-night,  to  look  them  over." 

"  Where  will  he  keep  them?  "  broke  in  Con 
stance  suddenly. 

' '  He  has  a  little  safe  in  the  library  out  there 
where  he  keeps  all  such  personal  papers.  I 
shouldn't  be  surprised  if  he  looked  them  over 
and  locked  them  up  there  until  he  intends  to 
use  them  at  least  until  morning." 

"  I  have  a  plan,"  exclaimed  Constance  ex 
citedly.  "  Are  you  game?  ' 

Anita  Douglas  looked  at  her  friend  squarely. 
In  her  face  Constance  read  the  desperation  of 
a  woman  battling  for  life  and  honor. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Anita  in  a  low,  tense  tone, 
"  for  anything." 

"  Then  meet  me  after  dinner  in  the  Ter 
minal.  We'll  go  out  to  Glenclair." 

The  two  looked  deeply  into  each  other's  eyes. 
Nothing  was  said,  but  what  each  read  was  a 


THE  BLACKMAILERS  277 

sufficient  answer  to  a  host  of  unspoken  ques 
tions. 

A  moment  after  Mrs.  Douglas  had  gone,  Con 
stance  opened  a  cabinet.  From  the  false  back 
of  a  drawer  she  took  two  little  vials  of  powder 
and  a  small  bottle  with  a  sponge. 

Then  she  added  a  long  steel  bar,  with  a  pe 
culiar  turn  at  the  end,  to  her  paraphernalia  for 
the  trip. 

Nothing  further  occurred  until  they  met  at 
the  Terminal,  or,  in  fact,  on  the  journey  out. 
On  most  of  the  ride  Mrs.  Douglas  kept  her  face 
averted,  looking  out  of  the  window  into  the 
blackness  of  the  night.  Perhaps  she  was  think 
ing  of  other  journeys  out  to  Glenclair,  perhaps 
she  was  afraid  of  meeting  the  curious  gaze  of 
any  late  sojourners  who  might  suffer  from 
acute  suburban  curiosity. 

Quietly  the  two  women  alighted  and  quickly 
made  their  way  from  the  station  up  the  main 
street,  then  diverged  to  a  darker  and  less  fre 
quented  avenue. 

"  There's  the  house,"  pointed  out  Mrs. 
Douglas,  halting  Constance,  with  a  little  bitter 
exclamation. 

Evidently  she  had  reasoned  well.  He  had 
gone  out  there  early  and  there  was  a  light  in 
the  library. 

"  He  isn't  much  of  a  reader,"  whispered 


278  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

Mrs.  Donglas.  "  Oh — it's  clear  to  me  that  he 
has  the  stuff  all  right.  He's  devouring  it, 
gloating  over  it." 

The  sound  of  footsteps  approaching  down 
the  paved  walk  came  to  them.  Loitering  on 
the  streets  of  a  suburban  town  always  occasions 
suspicion,  and  instinctively  Constance  drew 
Anita  with  her  into  the  shadow  of  a  hedge  that 
Bet  off  the  house  from  that  next  to  it. 

There  was  no  fence  cutting  it  off  from  the 
sidewalk,  but  at  the  corner  of  the  plot  a  large 
bush  stood.  In  this  bower  they  were  perfectly 
hidden  in  the  shadow. 

Hour  after  hour  they  waited,  watching  that 
light  in  the  library,  speculating  what  it  was  he 
was  reading,  while  Anita,  half  afraid  to  talk, 
wondered  what  it  was  that  Constance  had  in 
mind. 

Finally  the  light  in  the  library  winked  out 
and  the  house  was  in  darkness. 

Midnight  passed,  and  with  it  the  last  belated 
suburbanite. 

At  last,  when  the  moon  had  disappeared  un 
der  some  clouds,  Constance  pulled  Anita  gently 
along  up  the  lawn. 

There  was  no  sign  of  life  about  the  house,  yet 
Constance  observed  all  the  caution  she  would 
have  if  it  had  been  well  guarded. 


THE  BLACKMAILERS  279 

Quickly  they  advanced  over  the  open  space 
to  the  cottage,  approaching  in  the  shadow  as 
much  as  possible. 

Tiptoeing  over  the  porch,  Constance  tried  a 
window,  the  window  through  which  had  shown 
the  tantalizing  light.  It  was  fastened. 

Without  hesitation  she  pulled  out  the  long 
steel  bar  with  the  twisted  head,  and  began  to 
insert  the  sharp  end  between  the  sashes. 

"  Aren't — you — afraid?  "  chattered  her 
companion. 

"  No,"  she  whispered,  not  looking  up  from 
her  work.  "  You  know,  most  persons  don't 
know  enough  about  jimmies.  Against  them  an 
ordinary  door  lock  or  window  catch  is  no  pro 
tection  at  all.  Why,  with  this  jimmy,  even  a 
woman  can  exert  a  pressure  of  a  ton  or  so.  Not 
one  catch  in  a  thousand  can  stand  it — certainly 
not  this  one." 

Constance  continued  to  work,  muffling  the 
lever  as  much  as  possible  in  a  piece  of  felt. 

At  last  a  quick  wrench  and  the  catch  yielded. 

The  only  thing  wrong  about  it  was  the  noise. 
There  had  been  no  wind,  no  passing  trolley, 
nothing  to  conceal  it. 

They  shrank  back  into  the  shadow,  and 
waited  breathless.  Had  it  been  heard?  Would 
a  window  open  presently  and  an  alarm  be 
sounded? 

19 


280  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

There  was  not  a  sound,  save  the  rustle  of  the 
leaves  in  the  night  wind. 

A  few  minutes  later  Constance  carefully 
raised  the  lower  sash  and  they  stepped  softly 
into  the  house — once  the  house  over  which  Anita 
Douglas  had  been  mistress. 

Cautiously  Constance  pressed  the  button  on 
a  little  pocket  storage-battery  lamp  and  flashed 
it  slowly  about  the  room. 

All  was  quiet  in  the  library.  The  library  table 
was  disordered,  as  if  some  one  in  great  stress 
of  mind  had  been  working  at  it.  Anita  won 
dered  what  had  been  the  grim  thoughts  of  the 
man  as  he  pondered  on  the  mass  of  stuff, 
the  tissue  of  falsehoods  that  the  blackmailing 
detective  had  handed  to  him  at  such  great 
cost. 

At  last  the  cone  of  light  rested  on  a  little  safe 
at  the  opposite  end. 

"  There  it  is,"  whispered  Anita,  pointing, 
half  afraid  even  of  the  soft  tones  of  her  own 
voice. 

Constance  had  pulled  down  all  the  shades 
quietly,  and  drew  the  curtains  tightly  between 
the  room  and  the  foyer. 

On  the  top  of  the  safe  she  was  pouring  some 
of  the  powder  in  a  neat  pile  from  one  of  the 
vials. 


THE  BLACKMAILERS  281 

"  What  is  that?  "  asked  Anita,  bending  close 
to  her  ear. 

"  Some  powdered  metallic  aluminum  mixed 
with  oxide  of  iron,"  whispered  Constance  in 
return.  "  I  read  of  this  thing  in  a  scientific 
paper  the  other  day,  and  I  determined  to  get 
some  of  it.  But  I  didn't  think  I'd  ever  really 
have  occasion  to  use  it." 

She  added  some  powder  from  the  other  vial. 

"And  that?  " 

"  Magnesium  powder." 

Constance  had  lighted  a  match. 

' '  Stand  back,  Anita, ' '  she  whispered,  * '  back, 
Anita,"  she  whispered,  "  back  in  the  farthest 
corner  of  the  room,  and  keep  quiet.  Shut  your 
eyes — turn  your  face  away!  ' 

There  was  a  flash,  blinding,  then  a  steady, 
brilliant  burst  of  noiseless,  penetrating,  burn 
ing  flame. 

Anita  had  expected  an  explosion.  Instead 
she  found  that  her  eyes  hurt.  She  had  not 
closed  them  tightly  quick  enough. 

Still,  Constance's  warning  had  been  sufficient 
to  prevent  any  damage  to  the  sight,  and  she 
slowly  recovered. 

Actually,  the  burning  powder  seemed  to  be 
sinking  into  the  very  steel  of  the  safe  itself,  as 
if  it  had  been  mere  ice ! 


282  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

Was  it  an  optical  illusion,  a  freak  of  her 
sight? 

"  Wh-what  is  it?  "  she  whispered  in  awe, 
drawing  closer  to  her  friend. 

"  Thermit,"  whispered  Constance  in  reply, 
as  the  two  watched  the  glowing  mass  fascinated, 
"  an  invention  of  a  German  chemist  named 
Goldschmidt.  It  will  burn  a  hole  right  through 
steel — at  a  terrific  temperature,  three  thousand 
or  more  degrees." 

The  almost  burned  out  mass  seemed  to  fall 
into  the  safe  as  if  it  had  been  a  wooden  box  in 
stead  of  chrome  steel. 

They  waited  a  moment,  still  blinking,  to  re 
gain  control  over  their  eyes  in  spite  of  the  care 
they  had  used  to  shield  them. 

Then  they  tiptoed  across  the  floor. 

In  the  top  of  the  safe  yawned  a  hole  large 
enough  to  stick  one's  hand  and  arm  through! 

Constance  reached  into  the  safe  and  drew  out 
something  on  which  she  flashed  the  pocket  light. 

There  was  bundle  after  bundle  of  checks,  the 
personal  checks  of  a  methodical  business  man, 
carefully  preserved. 

Hastily  she  looked  them  over.  All  seemed  to 
be  perfectly  straight — payments  to  tradesmen, 
to  real  estate  agents,  payments  of  all  sorts,  all 
carefully  labeled. 


THE  BLACKMAILERS  283 

"  Oh,  he'd  never  let  anything  like  that  lie 
around, ' '  remarked  Anita,  as  she  began  to  com 
prehend  what  Constance  was  after. 

Constance  was  scrutinizing  some  of  the  checks 
more  carefully  than  others.  Suddenly  she  held 
one  up  to  the  light.  Apparently  it  was  in  pay 
ment  of  legal  services. 

Quickly  she  took  the  little  bottle  of  brownish 
fluid  which  she  had  brought  with  the  sponge. 

She  dipped  the  sponge  in  it  lightly  and 
brushed  it  over  the  check.  Then  she  leaned  for 
ward  breathlessly. 

"  Eradicating  ink  is  simply  a  bleaching  pro 
cess,"  she  remarked,  "  which  leaves  the  iron  of 
the  ink  as  a  white  oxide  instead  of  a  black  oxide. 
The  proper  reagent  will  restore  the  original 
color — partially  and  at  least  for  a  time.  Ah — 
yes — it  is  as  I  thought.  There  have  been  era 
sures  in  these  checks.  Other  names  have  been 
written  in  on  some  of  them  in  place  of  those  that 
were  originally  there.  The  sulphide  of  am 
monia  ought  to  bring  out  anything  that  is  hid 
den  here. 

There,  faintly,  was  the  original  writing.  It 
read,  "  Pay  to  the  order  of — Helen  Brett — " 

Mrs.  Douglas  with  difficulty  restrained  an 
exclamation  of  anger  and  hatred  at  the  mere 
sight  of  the  name  of  the  other  woman. 

"  He    was    careful,"    remarked    Constance. 


284  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

"  Reckless  at  first  in  giving  checks — he  has  tried 
to  cover  it  up.  He  didn't  want  to  destroy  them, 
yet  he  couldn't  have  such  evidence  about.  So 
he  must  have  altered  the  name  on  the  canceled 
vouchers  after  they  were  returned  to  him  paid 
by  the  bank.  Very  clever — very. ' ' 

Constance  reached  into  the  safe  again.  There 
were  some  personal  and  some  business  letters, 
some  old  check  books,  some  silver  and  gold 
trinkets  and  table  silver. 

She  gave  a  low  exclamation.  She  had  found  a 
packet  of  letters  and  a  sheaf  of  typewritten 
flimsy  tissue  paper  pages. 

Mrs.  Douglas  uttered  a  little  cry,  quickly  sup 
pressed.  The  letters  were  those  in  her  own 
handwriting  addressed  to  Lynn  Munro. 

"  Here  are  Drummond's  reports,  too,"  Con 
stance  added. 

She  looked  them  hastily  over.  The  damning 
facts  had  been  massed  in  a  way  that  must  in 
evitably  have  prejudiced  any  case  for  the  de 
fense  that  Mrs.  Douglas  might  set  up. 

"  There — there's  all  the  evidence  against 
you, ' '  whispered  Constance  hoarsely,  handing  it 
over  to  Anita.  "  It's  all  yours  again.  Destroy 
it." 

In  her  eagerness,  with  trembling  hands,  Anita 
had  torn  up  the  whole  mass  of  incriminating 


THE  BLACKMAILERS  285 

papers  and  had  cast  them  into  the  fireplace. 
She  was  just  about  to  strike  a  match. 

Suddenly  there  came  a  deep  voice  from  the 
stairs. 

"  Well— what's  all  this?  " 

Anita  dropped  the  match  from  her  nerveless 
hands.  Constance  felt  an  arm  grasp  her  tightly. 
For  a  moment  a  chill  ran  over  her  at  being 
caught  in  the  nefarious  work  of  breaking  and 
entering  a  dwelling-house  at  night.  The  hand 
was  Anita's,  but  the  voice  was  that  of  a  man. 

Lights  flashed  all  over  the  house  at  once,  from 
a  sort  of  electric  light  system  that  could  be  in 
stantly  lighted  and  would  act  as  a  * '  burglar  ex- 
peller. ' ' 

It  was  Douglas  himself.  He  was  staring  an 
grily  at  his  wife  and  the  stranger  with  her. 

11  Well?  "  he  demanded  with  cold  sarcasm. 
"  Why  this — this  burglary?  " 

Before  he  could  quite  take  in  the  situation, 
with  a  quick  motion,  Constance  struck  a  match 
and  touched  it  to  the  papers  in  the  fireplace. 

As  they  blazed  up  he  caught  sight  of  what 
they  were  and  almost  leaped  across  the  floor. 

Constance  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm.  "  One 
moment,  Mr.  Douglas,"  she  said  quietly. 
"  Look  at  that!  " 

"  Who — who  the  devil  are  you?  "  he  gasped. 
11  What's  all  this?  " 


286  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

"  I  think,'  remarked  Constance  slowly  and 
quietly, ' '  that  your  wife  is  now  in  a  position  to 
prove  that  you — well,  don't  come  into  court  with 
clean  hands,  if  you  attempt  to  do  so.  Besides, 
you  know,  the  courts  rather  frown  on  detectives 
that  practice  collusion  and  conspiracy  and 
frame  up  evidence,  to  say  nothing  of  trying  to 
blackmail  the  victims.  I  thought  perhaps  you'd 
prefer  not  to  say  anything  about  this — er — visit 
to-night — after  you  saw  that." 

Constance  had  quietly  laid  one  of  the  erased 
checks  on  the  library  table.  Again  she  dipped 
the  sponge  into  the  brownish  liquid.  Again  the 
magic  touch  revealed  the  telltale  name.  With 
her  finger  she  was  pointing  to  the  faintly  legible 
"  Helen  Brett  "  on  the  check  as  the  sulphide 
had  brought  it  out. 

Douglas  stared — dazed. 

He  rubbed  his  eyes  and  stared  again  as  the 
last  of  the  flickering  fire  died  away.  In  an  in 
stant  he  realized  that  it  was  not  a  dream,  that 
it  was  all  a  fact. 

He  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  women. 

He  was  checkmated. 

Constance  ostentatiously  folded  up  the  erased 
vouchers. 

"  I — I  shall  not — make  any — contest,"  Doug 
las  managed  to  gasp  huskily. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  DOPE  FIENDS 

11  I  HAVE  a  terrible  headache,"  remarked 
Constance  Dunlap  to  her  friend,  Adele  Gor 
don,  the  petite  cabaret  singer  and  dancer  of 
the  Mayfair,  who  had  dropped  in  to  see  her 
one  afternoon. 

"  You  poor,  dear  creature, "  soothed  Adele. 
"  Why  don't  you  go  to  see  Dr.  Price?  He  has 
cured  me.  He 's  splendid — splendid. ' ' 

Constance  hesitated.  Dr.  Moreland  Price  was 
a  well-known  physician.  All  day  and  even  at 
night,  she  knew,  automobiles  and  cabs  rolled  up 
to  his  door  and  their  occupants  were,  for  the 
most  part,  stylishly  gowned  women. 

"  Oh,  come  on,"  urged  Adele.  "  He  doesn't 
charge  as  highly  as  people  seem  to  think.  Be 
sides,  I'll  go  with  you  and  introduce  you,  and 
he'll  charge  only  as  he  does  the  rest  of  us  in  the 
profession." 

Constance's  head  throbbed  frantically.  She 
felt  that  she  must  have  some  relief  soon.  l  *  All 
right,"  she  agreed, "  I'll  go  with  you,  and  thank 
you,  Adele." 

287 


288  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

Dr.  Price's  office  was  on  the  first  floor  of  the 
fashionable  Recherche  Apartments,  and,  as  she 
expected,  Constance  noted  a  line  of  motor  cars 
before  it. 

They  entered  and  were  admitted  to  a  richly 
furnished  room,  in  mahogany  and  expensive 
Persian  rugs,  where  a  number  of  patients 
waited.  One  after  another  an  attendant  sum 
moned  them  noiselessly  and  politely  to  see  the 
doctor,  until  at  last  the  turn  of  Constance  and 
Adele  came. 

Dr.  Price  was  a  youngish,  middle-aged  man, 
tall,  with  a  sallow  countenance  and  a  self-confi 
dent,  polished  manner  which  went  a  long  way  in 
reassuring  the  patients,  most  of  whom  were 
ladies. 

As  they  entered  the  doctor's  sanctum  behind 
the  folding  doors,  Adele  seemed  to  be  on  very 
good  terms  indeed  with  him. 

They  seated  themselves  in  the  deep  leather 
chairs  beside  Dr.  Price's  desk,  and  he  inclined 
his  head  to  listen  to  the  story  of  their  ailments. 

"  Doctor,"  began  Constance's  introducer, 
"  I've  brought  my  friend,  Mrs.  Dunlap,  who  is 
suffering  from  one  of  those  awful  headaches.  I 
thought  perhaps  you  could  give  her  some  of  that 
medicine  that  has  done  me  so  much  good. ' ' 

The  doctor  bowed  without  saying  anything 


THE  DOPE  FIENDS  289 

and  shifted  his  eyes  from  Adele  to  Constance. 
"  Just  what  seems  to  be  the  difficulty?  "  he  in 
quired. 

Constance  told  him  how  she  felt,  of  her  gen 
eral  lassitude  and  the  big,  throbbing  veins  in  her 
temples. 

"Ah — a  woman's  headaches!"  he  smiled, 
adding,  "  Nothing  serious,  however,  in  this 
case,  as  far  as  I  can  see.  We  can  fix  this  one 
all  right,  I  think." 

He  wrote  out  a  prescription  quickly  and 
handed  it  to  Constance. 

"  Of  course,"  he  added,  as  he  pocketed  his 
fee,  "  it  makes  no  difference  to  me  personally, 
but  I  would  advise  that  you  have  it  filled  at 
Muller's — Miss  Gordon  knows  the  place.  I 
think  Muller's  drugs  are  perhaps  fresher  than 
those  of  most  druggists,  and  that  makes  a  great 
deal  of  difference. ' ' 

He  had  risen  and  was  politely  and  suavely 
bowing  them  out  of  another  door,  at  the  same 
time  by  pressing  a  button  signifying  to  his  at 
tendant  to  admit  the  next  patient. 

Constance  had  preceded  Adele,  and,  as  she 
passed  through  the  other  door,  she  overheard 
the  doctor  whisper  to  her  friend,  "I'm  going 
to  stop  for  you  to-night  to  take  a  ride.  I  have 
something  important  I  want  to  say  to  you. ' ' 

She  did  not  catch  Adele 's  answer,  but  as  they 


290  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

left  the  marble  and  onyx,  brass-grilled  entrance, 
Adele  remarked:  "  That's  his  car — over  there. 
Oh,  but  he  is  a  reckless  driver — dashes  along 
pell-mell — but  always  seems  to  have  his  eye  out 
for  everything — never  seems  to  be  arrested? 
never  in  an  accident. ' ' 

Constance  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  car 
and  was  startled  to  see  the  familiar  face  of 
Drummond  across  the  street  dodging  behind  it. 
What  was  it  now,  she  wondered — a  divorce 
case,  a  scandal — what? 

The  medicine  was  made  up  into  little  powders, 
to  be  taken  until  they  gave  relief,  and  Constance 
folded  the  paper  of  one,  poured  it  on  the  back 
of  her  tongue  and  swallowed  a  glass  of  water 
afterward. 

Her  head  continued  to  throb,  but  she  felt  a 
sense  of  well-being  that  she  had  not  before. 
Adele  urged  her  to  take  another,  and  Constance 
did  so. 

The  second  powder  increased  the  effect  of  the 
first  marvelously.  But  Constance  noticed  that 
she  now  began  to  feel  queer.  She  was  not  used 
to  taking  medicine.  For  a  moment  she  felt  that 
she  was  above,  beyond  the  reach  of  ordinary 
rules  and  laws.  She  could  have  done  any  sort 
of  physical  task,  she  felt,  no  matter  how  diffi 
cult.  She  was  amazed  at  herself,  as  compared 


THE  DOPE  FIENDS  291 

to  what  she  had  been  only  a  few  moments  be 
fore. 

' '  Another  one  ?  ' '  asked  Adele  finally. 

Constance  was  by  this  time  genuinely  alarmed 
at  the  sudden  unwonted  effect  on  herself. 
"  N-no,"  she  replied  dubiously,  "  I  don't  think 
I  want  to  take  any  more,  just  yet. ' ' 

"  Not  another?  "  asked  Adele  in  surprise. 
' '  I  wish  they  would  affect  me  that  way.  Some 
times  I  have  to  take  the  whole  dozen  before  they 
have  any  effect. ' ' 

They  chatted  for  a  few  minutes,  and  finally 
Adele  rose. 

"  Well,"  she  remarked  with  a  nervous 
twitching  of  her  body,  as  if  she  were  eager  to 
be  doing  something,  "  I  really  must  be  going. 
I  can  't  say  I  feel  any  too  well  myself. ' ' 

* '  I  think  I  '11  take  a  walk  with  you, ' '  answered 
Constance,  who  did  not  like  the  continued  effect 
of  the  two  powders.  "  I  feel  the  need  of  exer 
cise — and  air." 

Adele  hesitated,  but  Constance  already  had 
her  hat  on.  She  had  seen  Drummond  watching 
Dr.  Price's  door,  and  it  interested  her  to  know 
whether  he  could  possibly  have  been  following 
Adele  or  some  one  else. 

As  they  walked  along  Adele  quickened  her 
pace,  until  they  came  again  to  the  drug 
store. 


292  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

"  I  believe  I'll  go  in  and  get  something,"  she 
remarked,  pausing. 

For  the  first  time  in  several  minutes  Con 
stance  looked  at  the  face  of  her  friend.  She  was 
amazed  to  discover  that  Adele  looked  as  if  she 
had  had  a  spell  of  sickness.  Her  eyes  were  large 
and  glassy,  her  skin  cold  and  sweaty,  and  she 
looked  positively  pallid  and  thin. 

As  they  entered  the  store  Muller,  the  drug 
gist,  bowed  again  and  looked  at  Adele  a  moment 
as  she  leaned  over  the  counter  and  whispered 
something  to  him.  Without  a  word  he  went  into 
the  arcana  behind  the  partition  that  cuts  off  the 
mysteries  of  the  prescription  room  in  every  drug 
store  from  the  front  of  the  store. 

When  Muller  returned  he  handed  her  a 
packet,  for  which  she  paid  and  which  she 
dropped  quickly  into  her  pocketbook,  hugging 
the  pocketbook  close  to  herself. 

Adele  turned  and  was  about  to  hurry  from  the 
store  with  Constance.  "  Oh,  excuse  me,"  she 
said  suddenly  as  if  she  had  just  recollected 
something,  "  I  promised  a  friend  of  mine  I'd 
telephone  this  afternoon,  and  I  have  forgotten 
to  do  it.  I  see  a  pay  station  here. ' '  Constance 
waited. 

Adele  returned  much  quicker  than  one  would 
have  expected  she  could  call  up  a  number,  but 
Constance  thought  nothing  of  it  at  the  time. 


THE  DOPE  FIENDS  293 

She  did  notice,  however,  that  as  her  friend 
emerged  from  the  booth  a  most  marvelous 
change  had  taken  place  in  her.  Her  step  was 
firm,  her  eye  clear,  her  hand  steady.  Whatever 
it  was,  reasoned  Constance,  it  could  not  have 
been  serious  to  have  disappeared  so  quickly. 

It  was  with  some  curiosity  as  to  just  what 
she  might  expect  that  Constance  went  around 
to  the  famous  cabaret  that  night.  The  May- 
fair  occupied  two  floors  of  what  had  been  a 
wide  brownstone  house  before  business  and 
pleasure  had  crowded  the  residence  district 
further  and  further  uptown.  It  was  a  very 
well-known  bohemian  rendezvous,  where  un 
der-,  demi-  and  upper-world  rubbed  elbows 
without  friction  and  seemed  to  enjoy  the  nov 
elty  and  be  willing  to  pay  for  it. 

Adele,  who  was  one  of  the  performers,  had 
not  arrived  yet,  but  Constance,  who  had  come 
with  her  mind  still  full  of  the  two  unexpected 
encounters  with  Drummond,  was  startled  to 
see  him  here  again.  Fortunately  he  did  not 
see  her,  and  she  slipped  unobserved  into  an 
angle  near  the  window  overlooking  the  street. 

Drummond  had  been  engrossed  in  watching 
some  one  already  there,  and  Constance  made 
the  best  use  she  could  of  her  eyes  to  determine 
who  it  was.  The  outdoor  walk  and  a  good  din- 


294  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

ner  had  checked  her  headache,  and  now  the 
excitement  of  the  chase  of  something,  she  knew 
not  what,  completed  the  cure. 

It  was  not  long  before  she  discovered  that 
Dmmmond  was  watching  intently,  without 
seeming  to  do  so,  a  nervous-looking  fellow 
whose  general  washed-out  appearance  of  face 
was  especially  unattractive  for  some  reason 
or  other.  He  was  very  thin,  very  pale,  and 
very  stary  about  the  eyes.  Then,  too,  it 
seemed  as  if  the  bone  in  his  nose  was  going, 
due  perhaps  to  the  shrinkage  of  the  blood  ves 
sels  from  some  cause. 

Constance  noticed  a  couple  of  girls  whom  she 
had  seen  Adele  speak  to  on  several  other  oc 
casions  approaching  the  young  man. 

There  came  an  opportune  lull  in  the  music 
and  from  around  the  corner  of  her  protecting 
angle  Constance  could  just  catch  the  greeting 
of  one  of  the  girls,  * '  Hello,  Sleighbells !  Got 
any  snow?  " 

It  was  a  remark  that  seemed  particularly 
malapropos  to  the  sultry  weather,  and  Con 
stance  half  expected  a  burst  of  laughter  at 
the  unexpected  sally. 

Instead,  she  was  surprised  to  hear  the  young 
man  reply  in  a  very  serious  and  matter-of-fact 
manner,  "  Sure.  Got  any  money,  May?  " 

She    craned    her    neck,    carefully    avoiding 


THE  DOPE  FIENDS  295 

coming  into  Drummond's  line_of  vision,  and 
as  she  did  so  she  saw  two  silver  quarters  gleam 
momentarily  from  hand  to  hand,  and  the  young 
man  passed  each  girl  stealthily  a  small  white 
paper  packet. 

Others  came  to  him,  both  men  and  women. 
It  seemed  to  be  an  established  thing,  and  Con 
stance  noted  that  Drummond  watched  it  all 
covertly. 

"  Who  is  that?  "  asked  Constance  of  the 
waiter  who  had  served  her  sometimes  when 
she  had  been  with  Adele,  and  knew  her. 

"  Why,  they  call  him  Sleighbells  Charley, " 
he  replied,  "  a  coke  fiend. " 

"  Which  means  a  cocaine  fiend,  I  suppose!  " 
she  queried. 

"  Yes.  He's  a  lobbygow  for  the  grapevine 
system  they  have  now  of  selling  the  dope  in 
spite  of  this  new  law." 

"  Where  does  he  get  the  stuff?  "  she  asked. 

The  waiter  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  No 
body  knows,  I  guess.  I  don't.  But  he  gets  it 
in  spite  of  the  law  and  peddles  it.  Oh,  it's  all 
adulterated — with  some  white  stuff,  I  don't 
know  what,  and  the  price  they  charge  is  out 
rageous.  They  must  make  an  ounce  retail  at 
five  or  six  times  the  cost.  Oh,  you  can  bet  that 
Borne  one  who  is  at  the  top  is  making  a  pile  of 

money  out  of  that  graft,  all  right." 
20 


296  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

He  said  it  not  with  any  air  of  righteous  in 
dignation,  but  with  a  certain  envy. 

Constance  was  thinking  the  thing  over  in  her 
mind.  Where  did  the  "  coke  "  come  from? 
The  "  grapevine  "  system  interested  her. 

"  Sleighbells  "  seemed  to  have  disposed  of 
all  the  "  coke  "  he  had  brought  with  him.  As 
the  last  packet  went,  he  rose  slowly,  and 
shuffled  out.  Constance,  who  knew  that  Adele 
would  not  come  for  some  time,  determined  to 
follow  him.  She  rose  quietly  and,  under  cover 
of  a  party  going  out,  managed  to  disappear 
without,  as  far  as  she  knew,  letting  Drummond 
catch  a  glimpse  of  her.  This  would  not  only 
employ  her  time,  but  it  was  better  to  avoid 
Drummond  as  far  as  possible,  at  present,  too, 
she  felt. 

At  a  distance  of  about  half  a  block  she  fol 
lowed  the  curiously  shuffling  figure.  He 
crossed  the  avenue,  turned  and  went  uptown, 
turned  again,  and,  before  she  knew  it,  disap 
peared  in  a  drug  store.  She  had  been  so  en 
grossed  in  following  the  lobbygow  that  it  was 
with  a  start  that  she  realized  that  he  had  en 
tered  Muller's. 

What  did  it  all  mean?  Was  the  druggist, 
Muller,  the  man  higher  upf  She  recalled  sud 
denly  her  own  experience  of  the  afternoon. 


THE  DOPE  FIENDS  297 

Had  Muller  tried  to  palm  off  something  on 
her?  The  more  she  thought  of  it  the  more 
sure  she  was  that  the  powders  she  had  taken 
had  been  doped. 

Slowly,  turning  the  matter  over  in  her  mind, 
she  returned  to  the  Mayfair.  As  she  peered  in 
cautiously  before  entering  she  saw  that  Drum- 
mond  had  gone.  Adele  had  not  come  in  yet, 
and  she  went  in  and  sat  down  again  in  her  old 
place. 

Perhaps  half  an  hour  later,  outside,  she 
heard  a  car  drive  up  with  a  furious  rattle  of 
gears.  She  looked  out  of  the  window  and,  as 
far  as  she  could  determine  in  the  shadows,  it 
was  Dr.  Price.  A  woman  got  out,  Adele.  For 
a  moment  she  stopped  to  talk,  then  Dr.  Price 
waved  a  gay  good-bye  and  was  off.  All  she 
could  catch  was  a  hasty,  "  No;  I  don't  think 
I'd  better  come  in  to-night,"  from  him. 

As  Adele  entered  the  Mayfair  she  glanced 
about,  caught  sight  of  Constance  and  came  and 
sat  down  by  her. 

It  would  have  been  impossible  for  her  to 
enter  unobserved,  so  popular  was  she.  It  was 
not  long  before  the  two  girls  whom  Constance 
had  seen  dealing  with  "  Sleighbells  '  saun 
tered  over. 

"  Your  friend  was  here  to-night,"  remarked 
one  to  Adele. 


298  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

"  Which  one?  "  laughed  Adele. 

"  The  one  who  admired  your  dancing  the 
other  night  and  wanted  to  take  lessons.'* 

"  You  mean  the  young  fellow  who  was  sell 
ing  something?  "  asked  Constance  pointedly. 

"  Oh,  no,"  returned  the  girl  quite  casually. 
"  That  was  Sleighbells, "  and  they  all  laughed. 

Constance  thought  immediately  of  Drum- 
mond.  "  The  other  one,  then,"  she  said,  "  the 
thick-set  man  who  was  all  alone?  ' 

11  Yes;  he  went  away  afterward.  Do  you 
know  him?  " 

"  I've  seen  him  somewhere,"  evaded  Con 
stance;  "  but  I  just  can't  quite  place  him." 

She  had  not  noticed  Adele  particularly  until 
now.  Under  the  light  she  had  a  peculiar  worn 
look,  the  same  as  she  had  had  before. 

The  waiter  came  up  to  them.  "  Your  turn 
is  next,"  he  hinted  to  Adele. 

"  Excuse  me  a  minute,"  she  apologized  to 
the  rest  of  the  party.  "  I  must  fix  up  a  bit. 
No,"  she  added  to  Constance,  "  don't  come 
with  me." 

She  returned  from  the  dressing  room  a  dif 
ferent  person,  and  plunged  into  the  wild  dance 
for  which  the  limited  orchestra  was  already 
tuning  up.  It  was  a  veritable  riot  of  whirl  and 
rhythm.  Never  before  had  Constance  seen 


THE  DOPE  FIENDS  299 

Adele  dance  with  such  abandon.  As  she  exe 
cuted  the  wild  mazes  of  a  newly  imported 
dance,  she  held  even  the  jaded  Mayfair  spell 
bound.  And  when  she  concluded  with  one  dar 
ing  figure  and  sat  down,  flushed  and  excited, 
the  diners  applauded  and  even  shouted  ap 
proval.  It  was  an  event  for  even  the  dance- 
mad  Mayfair. 

Constance  did  not  share  in  the  applause. 
At  last  she  understood.  Adele  was  a  dope 
fiend,  too.  She  felt  it  with  a  sense  of  pain. 
Always,  she  knew,  the  fiends  tried  to  get  away 
alone  somewhere  for  a  few  minutes  to  snuff 
some  of  their  favorite  nepenthe.  She  had 
heard  before  of  the  cocaine  "  snuffers  "  who 
took  a  little  of  the  deadly  powder,  placed  it 
on  the  back  of  the  hand,  and  inhaled  it  up  the 
nose  with  a  quick  intake  of  breath.  Adele  was 
one.  It  was  not  Adele  who  danced.  It  was  the 
dope. 

Constance  was  determined  to  speak. 

"  You  remember  that  man  the  girls  spoke 
of?  '  she  began. 

"  Yes.  What  of  him?  "  asked  Adele  with 
almost  a  note  of  defiance. 

"  Well,  I  really  do  know  him,"  confessed 
Constance.  "  He  is  a  detective." 

Constance  watched  her  companion  curi 
ously,  for  at  the  mere  word  she  had  stopped 


300  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

short  and  faced  her.  ''He  is?  "  she  asked 
quickly.  "  Then  that  was  why  Dr.  Price- 
She  managed  to  suppress  the  remark  and 
continued  her  walk  home  without  another 
word. 

In  Adele's  little  apartment  Constance  was 
quick  to  note  that  the  same  haggard  look  had 
returned  to  her  friend's  face. 

Adele  had  reached  for  her  pocketbook  with 
a  sort  of  clutching  eagerness  and  was  about  to 
leave  the  room. 

Constance  rose.  "  "Wny  don't  you  give  up 
the  stuff?  "  she  asked  earnestly.  "  Don't  you 
want  to?  " 

For  a  moment  Adele  faced  her  angrily. 
Then  her  real  nature  seemed  slowly  to  come 
to  the  surface.  "  Yes,"  she  murmured  frankly. 

"  Then  why  don't  you?  "  pleaded  Con 
stance. 

"  I  haven't  the  power.  There  is  an  inde 
scribable  excitement  to  do  something  great,  to 
make  a  mark.  It's  soon  gone,  but  while  it 
lasts,  I  can  sing,  dance,  do  anything — and  then 
— every  part  of  my  body  begins  crying  for 
more  of  the  stuff  again. ' ' 

There  was  no  longer  any  necessity  of  con 
cealment  from  Constance.  She  took  a  pinch 
of  the  stuff,  placed  it  on  the  back  of  her  wrist 
and  quickly  sniffed  it.  The  change  in  her  was 


THE  DOPE  FIENDS  301 

magical.  From  a  quivering  wretched  girl  she 
became  a  self-confident  neurasthenic. 

"  I  don't  care,"  she  laughed  hollowly  now. 
"  Yes,  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  tell  me. 
Soon  I'll  be  *  hunting  the  cocaine  bug,'  as  they 
call  it,  imagining  that  in  my  skin,  under  the 
flesh,  are  worms  crawling,  perhaps  see  them, 
see  the  little  animals  running  around  and 
biting  me." 

She  said  it  with  a  half-reckless  cynicism. 
"  Oh,  you  don't  know.  There  are  two  souls  in 
the  cocainist — one  tortured  by  the  pain  of  not 
having  the  stuff,  the  other  laughing  and  mock 
ing  at  the  dangers  of  it.  It  stimulates.  It 
makes  your  mind  work — without  effort,  by  it 
self.  And  it  gives  such  visions  of  success, 
makes  you  feel  able  to  do  so  much,  and  to  for 
get.  All  the  girls  use  it." 

"  Where  do  they  get  it?  "  asked  Constance. 
' '  I  thought  the  new  law  prohibited  it. ' ' 

"Get  it?  "  repeated  Adele.  "  Why,  they 
get  it  from  that  fellow  they  call  '  Sleighbells.1 
They  call  it  l  snow,'  you  know,  and  the  girls 
who  use  it  '  snowbirds.'  The  law  does  pro 
hibit  its  sale,  but — " 

She  paused  significantly. 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Constance;  "  but  Sleighbells 
is  only  a  part  of  the  system  after  all.  Who  is 
the  man  at  the  top?  " 


302  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

Adele  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  was 
silent.  Still,  Constance  did  not  fail  to  note  a 
sudden  look  of  suspicion  which  Adele  shot  at 
her.  Was  Adele  shielding  some  one? 

Constance  knew  that  some  one  must  be  get 
ting  rich  from  the  traffic,  probably  selling  hun 
dreds  of  ounces  a  week  and  making  thousands 
of  dollars.  Somehow  she  felt  a  sort  of  indig 
nation  at  the  whole  thing.  Who  was  it?  Who 
was  the  man  higher  up? 

In  the  morning  as  she  was  working  about 
her  little  kitchenette  an  idea  came  to  her. 
Why  not  hire  the  vacant  apartment  cross  the 
hall  from  Adele?  An  optician,  who  was  a 
friend  of  hers,  in  the  course  of  a  recent  con 
versation  had  mentioned  an  invention,  a 
model  of  which  he  had  made  for  the  inventor. 
She  would  try  it. 

Since,  with  Constance,  the  outlining  of  a 
plan  was  tantamount  to  the  execution,  it  was 
not  many  hours  later  before  she  had  both  the 
apartment  and  the  model  of  the  invention. 

Her  wall  separated  her  from  the  drug  store 
and  by  careful  calculation  she  determined 
about  where  came  the  little  prescription  de 
partment.  Carefully,  so  as  to  arouse  no  sus 
picion,  she  began  to  bore  away  at  the  wall  wit! 
various  tools,  until  finally  she  had  a  small,  al- 


THE  DOPE  FIENDS  303 

most  imperceptible  opening.  It  was  tedious 
work,  and  toward  the  end  needed  great  care 
so  as  not  to  excite  suspicion.  But  finally  she 
was  rewarded.  Through  it  she  could  see  just 
a  trace  of  daylight,  and  by  squinting  could  see 
a  row  of  bottles  on  a  shelf  opposite. 

Then,  through  the  hole,  she  pushed  a  long, 
narrow  tube,  like  a  putty  blower.  When  at  last 
she  placed  her  eye  at  it,  she  gave  a  low  excla 
mation  of  satisfaction.  She  could  now  see  the 
whole  of  the  little  room. 

It  was  a  detectascope,  invented  by  Gaillard 
Smith,  adapter  of  the  ^detectaphone,  an  instru 
ment  built  up  on  the  principle  of  the  cyto- 
scope  which  physicians  use  to  explore  inter 
nally  down  the  throat.  Only,  in  the  end  of  the 
tube,  instead  of  an  ordinary  lens,  was  placed 
what  is  known  as  a  ' '  fish-eye  ' '  lens,  which  had 
a  range  something  like  nature  has  given  the 
eyes  of  fishes,  hence  the  name.  Ordinarily 
cameras,  because  of  the  flatness  of  their  lenses, 
have  a  range  of  only  a  few  degrees,  the  great 
est  being  scarcely  more  than  ninety.  But  this 
lens  was  globular,  and,  like  a  drop  of  water, 
refracted  light  from  all  directions.  When 
placed  so  that  half  of  it  caught  the  light  it 
"  saw "  through  an  angle  of  180  degrees, 
"  saw  "  everything  in  the  room  instead  of  just 


304  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

that  little  row  of  bottles  on  the  shelf  oppo 
site. 

Constance  set  herself  to  watch,  and  it  was 
not  long  before  her  suspicions  were  confirmed, 
and  she  was  sure  that  this  was  nothing  more 
than  a  "  coke  "  joint.  Still  she  wondered 
whether  Muller  was  the  real  source  of  the 
traffic  of  which  Sleighbells-was  the  messenger. 
She  was  determined  to  find  out. 

All  day  she  watched  through  her  detecta- 
scope.  Once  she  saw  Adele  come  in  and  buy 
more  dope.  It  was  with  difficulty  that  she  kept 
from  interfering.  But,  she  reflected,  the  time 
was  not  ripe.  She  had  thought  the  thing  out. 
There  was  no  use  in  trying  to  get  at  it  through 
Adele.  The  only  way  was  to  stop  the  whole 
curse  at  its  source,  to  dam  the  stream.  Peo 
ple  came  and  went.  She  soon  found  that  he 
was  selling  them  packets  from  a  box  hidden 
in  the  woodwork.  That  much  she  had  learned, 
anyhow. 

Constance  watched  faithfully  all  day  with 
only  time  enough  taken  out  for  dinner.  It  was 
after  her  return  from  this  brief  interval  that 
she  felt  her  heart  give  a  leap  of  apprehension, 
as  she  looked  again  through  the  detectascope. 
There  was  Drummond  in  the  back  of  the  store 
talking  to  Muller  and  a  woman  who  looked  as 


THE  DOPE  FIENDS  305 

if  she  might  be  Mrs.  Muller,  for  both  seemed 
nervous  and  anxious. 

As  nearly  as  she  could  make  out,  Drum- 
mond  was  alternately  threatening  and  arguing 
with  Muller.  Finally  the  three  seemed  to 
agree,  for  Drummond  walked  over  to  a  type 
writer  on  a  table,  took  a  fresh  sheet  of  carbon 
paper  from  a  drawer,  placed  it  between  two 
sheets  of  paper,  and  hastily  wrote  something. 

Drummond  read  over  what  he  had  written. 
It  seemed  to  be  short,  and  the  three  appar 
ently  agreed  on  it.  Then,  in  a  trembling  hand, 
Muller  signed  the  two  copies  which  Drum 
mond  had  made,  one  of  which  Drummond  him 
self  kept  and  the  other  he  sealed  in  an  envelope 
and  sent  away  by  a  boy.  Drummond  reached 
into  his  pocket  and  pulled  out  a  huge  roll  of 
bills  of  large  denomination.  He  counted  out 
what  seemed  to  be  approximately  half,  handed 
it  to  the  woman,  and  replaced  the  rest  in  his 
pocket.  What  it  was  all  about  Constance  could 
only  vaguely  guess.  She  longed  to  know  what 
was  in  the  letter  and  why  the  money  had  been 
paid  to  the  woman. 

Perhaps  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after  Drum 
mond  left  Adele  appeared  again,  pleading  for 
more  dope.  Muller  went  back  of  the  partition 
and  made  up  a  fresh  paper  of  it  from  a  bottle 
also  concealed. 


306  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

Constance  was  torn  by  conflicting  impulses. 
She  did  not  want  to  miss  anything  in  the  per 
plexing  drama  that  was  being  enacted  before 
her,  yet  she  wished  to  interfere  with  the  deadly 
course  of  Adele.  Still,  perhaps  the  girl  would 
resent  interference  if  she  found  out  that  Con 
stance  was  spying  on  her.  She  determined  to 
wait  a  little  while  before  seeing  Adele.  It  was 
only  after  a  decided  effort  that  she  tore  herself 
away  from  the  detecta scope  and  knocked  on 
Adele 's  door  as  if  she  had  just  come  in  for  a 
visit.  Again  she  knocked,  but  still  there  was 
no  answer.  Every  minute  something  might  be 
happening  next  door.  She  hurried  back  to 
her  post  of  observation. 

One  of  the  worst  aspects  of  the  use  of  co 
caine,  she  knew,  was  the  desire  of  the  user  to 
share  his  experience  with  some  one  else.  The 
passing  on  of  the  habit,  which  seemed  to  be 
one  of  the  strongest  desires  of  the  drug  fiend, 
made  (him  even  more  dangerous  to  society  than 
he  would  otherwise  have  been.  That  thought 
gave  Constance  an  idea. 

She  recalled  also  now  having  heard  some 
where  that  it  was  a  common  characteristic  of 
these  poor  creatures  to  have  a  passion  for  fast 
automobiling,  to  go  on  long  rides,  perhaps  even 
without  having  the  money  to  pay  for  them. 
That,  too,  confirmed  the  idea  which  she  had. 


THE  DOPE  FIENDS  307 

As  the  night  advanced  she  determined  to 
stick  to  her  post.  What  could  it  have  been 
that  Drummond  was  doing!  It  was  no  good, 
she  felt  positive. 

Suddenly  before  her  eye,  glued  to  its  eaves 
dropping  aperture,  she  saw  a  strange  sight. 
There  was  a  violent  commotion  in  the  store. 
Blue-coated  policemen  seemed  to  swarm  in 
from  nowhere.  And  in  the  rear,  directing 
them,  appeared  Drummond,  holding  by  the 
arm  the  unfortunate  Sleighbells,  quaking  with 
fear,  evidently  having  been  picked  up  already 
elsewhere  by  the  wily  detective. 

Muller  put  up  a  stout  resistance,  but  the  offi 
cers  easily  seized  him  and,  after  a  hasty  but 
thorough  search,  unearthed  his  cache  of  the 
contraband  drug. 

As  the  scene  unfolded,  Constance  was  more 
and  more  bewildered  after  having  witnessed 
that  which  preceded  it,  the  signing  of  the  letter 
and  the  passing  of  the  money.  Muller  evi 
dently  had  nothing  to  say  about  that.  What 
did  it  mean? 

The  police  were  still  holding  Muller,  and 
Constance  had  not  noted  that  Drummond  had 
disappeared. 

"  It's  on  the  first  floor — left,  men,"  sounded 
a  familiar  voice  outside  her  own  door.  "  I 


308  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

know  she's  there.  My  shadow  saw  her  buy 
the  dope  and  take  it  home." 

Her  heart  was  thumping  wildly.  It  was 
Drummond  leading  his  squad  of  raiders,  and 
they  were  about  to  enter  the  apartment  of 
Adele.  They  knocked,  but  there  was  no  an 
swer. 

A  few  moments  before  Constance  would  have 
felt  perfectly  safe  in  saying  that  Adele  was 
out.  But  if  Drummond 's  man  had  seen  her 
enter,  might  she  not  have  been  there  all  the 
time,  be  there  still,  in  a  stupor?  She  dreaded 
to  think  of  what  might  happen  if  the  poor  girl 
once  fell  into  their  hands.  It  would  be  the 
final  impulse  that  w^ould  complete  her  ruin. 

Constance  did  not  stop  to  reason  it  out. 
Her  woman's  intuition  told  her  that  now  was 
the  time  to  act — that  there  was  no  retreat. 

She  opened  her  own  door  just  as  the  raiders 
had  forced  in  the  flimsy  affair  that  guarded  the 
apartment  of  Adele. 

"  So!  "  sneered  Drummond,  catching  sight 
of  her  in  the  dim  light  of  the  hallway.  "  You 
are  mixed  up  in  these  violations  of  the  new 
drug  law,  too!  " 

Constance  said  nothing.  She  had  deter 
mined  first  to  make  Drutninond  display  his 
hand. 

"  Well,"  he  ground  out,  "I'm  going  to  get 


THE  DOPE  FIENDS  309 

these  people  this  time.  I  represent  the  Medi 
cal  Society  and'  the  Board  of  Health.  These 
men  have  been  assigned  to  me  by  the  Com 
missioner  as  a  dope  squad.  We  want  this  girl. 
We  have  others  who  will  give  evidence ;  but  we 
want  this  one,  too." 

He  said  it  with  a  bluster  that  even  exagger 
ated  the  theatrical  character  of  the  raid  itself. 
Constance  did  not  stop  to  weigh  the  value  of 
his  words,  but  through  the  door  she  brushed 
quickly.  Adele  might  need  her  if  she  was  in 
deed  there. 

As  she  entered  the  little  living-room  she  saw 
a  sight  which  almost  transfixed  her.  Adele 
was  there — lying  across  a  divan,  motionless. 

Constance  bent  over.  Adele  was  cold.  As 
far  as  she  could  determine  there  was  not  a 
breath  or  a  heart  beat! 

What  did  it  mean?  She  did  not  stop  to 
think.  Instantly  there  flashed  over  her  the 
recollection  of  an  instrument  she  had  read 
about  at  one  of  the  city  hospitals.  It  might 
save  Adele.  Before  any  one  knew  what  she 
was  doing  she  had  darted  to  the  telephone  in 
the  lower  hall  of  the  apartment  and  had  called 
up  the  hospital  frantically,  imploring  them  to 
hurry.  Adele  must  be  saved. 

Constance  had  no  very  clear  idea  of  what 


310  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

happened  next  in  the  hurly-burly  of  events, 
until  the  ambulance  pulled  up  at  the  door  and 
the  white-coated  surgeon  burst  in  carrying  a 
heavy  suitcase. 

"With  one  look  at  the  unfortunate  girl  he 
muttered,  "  Paralysis  of  the  respiratory  or 
gans — too  large  a  dose  of  the  drug.  You  did 
perfectly  right, ' '  and  began  unpacking  the  case. 

Constance,  calm  now  in  the  crisis,  stood  by 
him  and  helped  as  deftly  as  could  any  nurse. 

It  was  a  curious  arrangement  of  tubes  and 
valves,  with  a  large  rubber  bag,  and  a  little 
pump  that  the  doctor  had  brought.  Quickly 
he  placed  a  cap,  attached  to  it,  over  the  nose 
and  mouth  of  the  poor  girl,  and  started  the 
machine. 

"  Wh-what  is  it?  "  gasped  Drummond  as  he 
saw  Adele's  hitherto  motionless  breast  now 
rise  and  fall. 

"  A  pulmotor,"  replied  the  doctor,  working 
quickly  and  carefully,  "  an  artificial  lung. 
Sometimes  it  can  revive  even  the  medically 
dead.  It  is  our  last  chance  with  this  girl. ' ' 

Constance  had  picked  up  the  packet  which 
had  fallen  beside  Adele  and  was  looking  at  the 
white  powder. 

1 1  Almost  pure  cocaine,  ' '  remarked  the  young 
surgeon,  testing  it.  "  The  hydrochloride, 
large  crystals,  highest  quality.  Usually  it  is 


* 


THE  DOPE  FIENDS  311 

adulterated.  Was  she  in  the  habit  of  taking  it 
this  wayf  " 

Constance  said  nothing.  She  had  seen  Mul- 
ler  make  up  the  packet — specially  now,  she  re 
called.  Instead  of  the  adulterated  dope  he  had 
given  Adele  the  purest  kind.  Why?  Was 
there  some  secret  he  wished  to  lock  in  her 
breast  forever? 

Mechanically  the  pulmotor  pumped.  Would 
it  save  her? 

Constance  was  living  over  what  she  had  al 
ready  seen  through  the  detectascope.  Sud 
denly  she  thought  of  the  strange  letter  and  of 
the  money. 

She  hurried  into  the  drug  store.  Muller  had 
already  been  taken  away,  but  before  the  offi 
cer  left  in  charge  could  interfere  she  picked  up 
the  carbon  sheet  on  which  the  letter  had  been 
copied,  turned  it  over  and  held  it  eagerly  to 
the  light 

She  read  in  amazement.  It  was  a  confes 
sion.  In  it  Muller  admitted  to  Dr.  Moreland 
Price  that  he  was  the  head  of  a  sort  of  dope 
trust,  that  he  had  messengers  out,  like  Sleigh- 
bells,  that  he  had  often  put  dope  in  the  pre 
scriptions  sent  him  by  the  doctor,  and  had  re 
peatedly  violated  the  law  and  refilled  such  pre 
scriptions.  On  its  face  it  was  complete  and 
convincing. 

21 


312  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

Yet  it  did  not  satisfy  Constance.  She  could 
not  believe  that  Adele  had  committed  suicide. 
Adele  must  possess  some  secret.  What  was 
it? 

"  Is — is  there  any  change?  "  she  asked  anx 
iously  of  the  young  surgeon  now  engrossed  in 
his  work. 

For  answer  he  merely  nodded  to  the  appar 
ently  motionless  form  on  the  bed,  and  for  a 
moment  stopped  the  pulmotor. 

The  mechanical  movement  of  the  body 
ceased.  But  in  its  place  was  a  slight  tremor 
about  the  lips  and  mouth. 

Adele  moved — was  faintly  gasping  for 
breath ! 

' l  Adele !  ' '  cried  Constance  softly  in  her  ear. 
"Adele!  " 

Something,  perhaps  a  far-away  answer  of 
recognition,  seemed  to  flicker  over  her  face. 
The  doctor  redoubled  his  efforts. 

"  Adele — do  you  know  me?  "  whispered 
Constance  again. 

"  Yes,"  came  back  faintly  at  last.  "  There 
— there's  something — wrong  with  it — They — 
they—" 

"  How?    What  do  you  mean?  "  urged  Con 
stance.    "  Tell  me,  Adele." 
The  girl  moved  uneasily.    The  doctor  admin- 


THE  DOPE  FIENDS  313 

istered  a  stimulant  and  she  vaguely  opened  her 
eyes,  began  to  talk  hazily,  dreamily.  Con 
stance  bent  over  to  catch  the  faint  words  which 
would  have  been  lost  to  the  others. 

"  They — are  going  to — double  cross  the 
Health  Department,"  she  murmured  as  if  to 
herself,  then  gathering  strength  she  went  on, 
"  Muller  and  Sleighbells  will  be  arrested  and 
take  the  penalty.  They  have  been  caught  with 
the  goods,  anyhow.  It  has  all  been  arranged 
so  that  the  detective  will  get  his  case.  Money 
— will  be  paid  to  both  of  them,  to  Muller  and 
the  detective,  to  swing  the  case  and  protect 
him.  He  made  me  do  it.  I  saw  the  detective, 
even  danced  with  him  and  he  agreed  to  do  it. 
Oh,  I  would  do  anything — I  am  his  willing  tool 
when  I  have  the  stuff.  But — this  time — it 
was — "  She  rambled  off  incoherently. 

11  Who  made  you  do  it?  Who  told  you?  " 
prompted  Constance.  "  For  whom  would  you 
do  anything?  ' 

Adele  moaned  and  clutched  Constance 's  hand 
convulsively.  Constance  did  not  pause  to  con 
sider  the  ethics  of  questioning  a  half-uncon 
scious  girl.  Her  only  idea  was  to  get  at  the 
truth. 

"  Who  was  it?  "  she  reiterated. 

Adele  turned  weakly. 

"  Dr.  Price,"  she  murmured  as  Constance 


314  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

bent  her  ear  to  catch  even  the  faintest  sound. 
"  He  told  me — all  about  it — last  night — in  the 
car. ' ' 

Instantly  Constance  understood.  Adele  was 
the  only  one  outside  who  held  the  secret,  who 
could  upset  the  carefully  planned  frame-up 
that  was  to  protect  the  real  head  of  the  dope 
trust  who  had  paid  liberally  to  save  his  own 
wretched  skin. 

She  rose  quickly  and  wheeled  about  suddenly 
on  Drummond. 

"  You  will  convict  Dr.  Price  also,"  she  said 
in  a  low  tone.  * '  This  girl  must  not  be  dragged 
down,  too.  You  will  leave  her  alone,  and  both 
you  and  Mr.  Muller  will  hand  over  that  money 
to  her  for  her  cure  of  the  habit. ' ' 

Drummond  started  forward  angrily,  but  fell 
back  as  Constance  added  in  a  lower  but  firmer 
tone,  "  Or  I'll  have  you  all  up  on  a  charge  of 
attempting  murder." 

Drummond  turned  surlily  to  those  of  his 
* '  dope  squad, ' '  who  remained : 

"You  can  go,  boys,"  he  said  brusquely* 
"  There's  been  some  mistake  here." 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  FUGITIVES 

"  NEWSPAPER  pictures  seldom  look  like  the 
person  they  represent,"  asserted  Lawrence 
Macey  nonchalantly. 

Constance  Dunlap  looked  squarely  at  the 
man  opposite  her  at  the  table,  oblivious  to  the 
surroundings.  It  was  a  brilliant  sight  in  the 
great  after-theater  rendez-vous,  the  beautiful 
faces  and  gowns,  the  exquisite  music,  the  bright 
lights  and  the  gayety.  She  had  chosen  this 
time  and  place  for  a  reason.  She  had  hoped 
that  the  contrast  with  what  she  had  to  say 
would  be  most  marked  in  its  influence  on  the 
man. 

"  Nevertheless,"  she  replied  keenly,  "  I  rec 
ognize  the  picture — as  though  you  were  Ber- 
tillon's  new  *  spoken  portrait '  of  this  Graeme 
Mackenzie. ' ' 

She  deliberately  folded  up  a  newspaper  clip 
ping  and  shoved  it  into  her  hand-bag  on  a  chair 
beside  the  table. 

Lawrence  Macey  met  her  eye  unflinchingly. 

"  Suppose,"  he  drawled,  "  just  for  the  sake 
315 


316  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

of  argument,  that  you  are  right.  What  would 
you  do? ' 

Constance  looked  at  the  unruffled  exterior  of 
the  man.  With  her  keen  perception  she  knew 
that  it  covered  just  as  calm  an  interior.  He 
would  have  said  the  same  thing  if  she  had  been 
a  real  detective,  had  walked  up  behind  him 
suddenly  in  the  subway  crush,  had  tapped  his 
shoulder,  and  whispered,  "  You're  wanted." 

"  We  are  dealing  with  facts,  not  supposi 
tions,"  she  replied  evasively. 

Momentarily,  a  strange  look  passed  over 
Macey's  face.  What  was  she  driving  at — 
blackmail  ?  He  could  not  think  so,  even  though 
he  had  only  just  come  to  know  Constance.  He 
rejected  the  thought  before  it  was  half  formed. 

"  Put  it  as  you  please,"  he  persisted.  li  I 
am,  then,  this  Graeme  Mackenzie  who  has  de 
camped  from  Omaha  with  half  a  million — it  is 
half  a  million  in  the  article,  is  it  not? — of  cash 
and  unregistered  stocks  and  bonds.  Now  what 
would  you  do?  " 

Constance  felt  unconsciously  the  shift  which 
he  had  skilfully  made  in  their  positions.  In 
stead  of  being  the  pursuer,  she  was  now  the 
pursued,  at  least  in  their  conversation.  He  had 
admitted  nothing  of  what  her  quick  intuition 
told  her. 


THE  FUGITIVES  317 

Yet  she  felt  an  admiration  for  the  sang-froid 
of  Macey.  She  felt  a  spell  thrown  over  her  by 
the  magnetic  eyes  that  seemed  to  search  her 
own.  They  were  large  eyes,  the  eyes  of  a 
dreamer,  rather  than  of  a  practical  man,  eyes 
of  a  man  who  goes  far  and  travels  long  with 
the  woman  on  whom  he  fixes  them  solely. 

"  You  haven't  answered  my  hypothetical 
question,"  he  reminded  her. 

She  brought  herself  back  with  a  start.  "  I 
was  only  thinking,"  she  murmured. 

' '  Then  there  is  doubt  in  your  mind  what  you 
would  do?  " 

"  N — no,"  she  hesitated. 

He  bent  over  nearer  across  the  table.  "  You 
would  at  least  recall  the  old  adage,  '  Do  unto 
others  as  you  would  that  they  should  do  unto 
you  '?  "  he  urged. 

It  was  uncanny,  the  way  this  man  read  her 
thoughts. 

"  You  know  whom  they  say  quotes  scrip 
ture,"  she  avoided. 

"  And  am  I  a — a  devil?  " 

"  I  did  not  say  so." 

"  You  hinted  it." 

She  had.    But  she  said,  "  No,  nor  hinted  it." 

"  Then  you  did  not  mean  to  hint  it?  ' 

She    looked   away    a   moment   at    the   gay 


318  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

throng.  "  Graeme  Mackenzie,"  she  said, 
slowly,  "  what's  the  use  of  all  this  beating 
about?  Why  cannot  we  be  frank  with  one  an 
other?  " 

She  paused,  then  resumed,  meditatively, 
"  A  long  time  ago  I  became  involved  with  a 
man  in  a  scheme  to  forge  checks.  I  would 
have  done  anything  for  him,  anything." 

A  cloud  passed  over  his  face.  She  saw  it, 
had  been  watching  for  it,  but  appeared  not  to 
do  so.  His  was  a  nature  to  brook  no  rivalry. 

"  My  husband  had  become  involved  in  ex 
travagances  for  which  I  was  to  blame,"  she 
went  on. 

The  cloud  settled,  and  in  its  place  came  a 
look  of  intense  relief.  He  was  like  most  men. 
Whatever  his  own  morals,  he  demanded  a 
high  standard  in  her. 

11  We  formed  an  amateur  partnership  in 
crime,"  she  hurried  on.  "  He  lost  his  life,  was 
unable  to  stand  up  against  the  odds,  while  he 
was  alone,  away  from  me.  Since  then  I  have 
been  helping  those  who  have  become  involved, 
on  the  wrong  side,  with  the  law.  There,"  she 
concluded  simply,  "  I  have  put  myself  in  your 
power.  I  have  admitted  my  part  in  something 
that,  try  as  they  would,  they  could  never  con 
nect  me  with.  I  have  done  it  because — because 
I  want  to  help  you.  Be  as  frank  with  me." 


THE  FUGITIVES  319 

He  eyed  her  keenly  again.  The  appeal  was 
irresistible. 

"  I  can  tell  you  Graeme  Mackenzie's  story,'* 
he  began  carefully.  "  Six  months  ago  there 
was  a  young  man  in  Omaha  who  had  worked 
faithfully  for  a  safe  deposit  company  for 
years.  He  was  getting  eighty-five  dollars  a 
month.  That  is  more  than  it  seems  to  you  here 
in  New  York.  But  it  was  very  little  for  what 
he  did.  Why,  as  superintendent  of  the  safe 
deposit  vaults  he  had  helped  to  build  up  that 
part  of  the  trust  company 's  business  to  such  an 
extent  that  he  knew  he  deserved  more. 

"  Now,  ai  superintendent  of  a  safe  deposit 
vault  has  lots  of  chances.  Sometimes  deposi 
tors  give  him  their  keys  to  unlock  their  boxes 
for  them.  It  is  a  simple  thing  to  make  an  im 
pression  in  wax  or  chewing  gum  palmed  in  the 
hand.  Or  he  has  access  to  a  number  of  keys 
of  unrented  boxes;  he  can,  as  opportunity  of 
fers,  make  duplicates,  and  then  when  the  boxes 
are  rented,  he  has  a  key.  Even  if  the  locks  of 
unrented  boxes  are  blanks,  set  by  the  first  in 
sertion  of  the  key  chosen  at  random,  he  can 
still  do  the  same  thing.  And  even  if  it  takes 
two  to  get  at  the  idle  keys,  himself  and  another 
trusted  employe,  he  can  get  at  them,  if  he  is 
clever,  without  the  other  officer  knowing  it, 
though  it  may  be  done  almost  before  his  eyes. 


320  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

You  see,  it  all  comes  down  to  the  honesty  of 
the  man." 

He  paused.  Constance  was  fascinated  at 
the  coolness  with  which  this  man  had  gone  to 
work,  and  with  which  he  told  of  it. 

"  This  superintendent  earned  more  than  he 
received.  He  deserved  it.  But  when  he  asked 
for  a  raise,  they  told  him  he  was  lucky  to  keep 
the  job, — they  reduced  him,  instead,  to  seventy- 
five  dollars.  He  was  angry  at  the  stinging  re 
buke.  He  determined  to  make  them  smart,  to 
show  them  what  he  could  do. 

11  One  noon  he  went  out  to  lunch  and — they 
have  been  looking  for  him  ever  since.  He  had 
taken  half  a  million  in  cash,  stocks,  and  bonds, 
unregistered  and  hence  easily  hypothecated 
and  traded  on." 

"  And  his  motive?  "  she  asked. 

He  looked  at  her  long  and  earnestly  as  if 
making  up  his  mind  to  something.  "  I  think," 
he  replied,  "  I  wanted  revenge  quite  as  much 
as  the  money." 

He  said  it  slowly,  measured,  as  if  realizing 
that  there  was  now  nothing  to  be  gained  by 
concealment  from  her,  as  if  only  he  wanted  to 
put  himself  in  the  best  light  with  the  woman 
who  had  won  from  him  his  secret.  It  was  his 
confession ! 


THE  FUGITIVES  321 

Acquaintances  with  Constance  ripened  fast 
into  friendships.  She  had  known  Macey,  as  he 
called  himself,  only  a  fortnight.  He  had  been 
introduced  to  her  at  a  sort  of  Bohemian  gath 
ering,  had  talked  to  her,  direct,  as  she  liked  a 
man  to  talk.  He  had  seen  her  home  that  night, 
had  asked  to  call,  and  on  the  other  nights  had 
taken  her  to  the  theater  and  to  supper. 

Delicately  unconsciously,  a  bond  of  friend 
ship  had  grown  up  between  them.  She  felt 
that  he  was  a  man  vibrating  with  physical  and 
mental  power,  long  latent,  which  nothing  but 
a  strong  will  held  in  check,  a  man  by  whom  she 
could  be  fascinated,  yet  of  whom  she  was  just 
a  little  bit  afraid. 

With  Macey,  it  would  have  been  difficult  to 
analyze  his  feelings.  He  had  found  in  Con 
stance  a  woman  who  had  seen  the  world  in  all 
its  phases,  yet  had  come  through  unstained  by 
what  would  have  drowned  some  in  the  depths 
of  the  under-world,  or  thrust  others  into  the 
degradation  of  the  demi-monde,  at  least.  He 
admired  and  respected  her.  He,  the  dreamer, 
saw  in  her  the  practical.  She,  an  adventurer 
in  amateur  lawlessness  saw  in  him  something 
kindred  at  heart. 

And  so  when  a  newspaper  came  to  her  in 
which  she  recognized  with  her  keen  insight 
Lawrence  Macey 's  face  under  Graeme  Mac- 


322  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

kenzie's  name,  and  a  story  of  embezzlement  of 
trust  company  and  other  funds  from  the  Omaha 
Central  Western  Trust  of  half  a  million,  she 
had  not  been  wholly  surprised.  Instead,  she 
felt  almost  a  sense  of  elation.  The  man  was 
neither  better  nor  worse  than  herself.  And  he 
needed  help. 

Her  mind  wandered  back  to  a  time,  months 
before,  when  she  had  learned  the  bitter  lesson 
of  what  it  was  to  be  a  legal  outcast,  and  had 
determined  always  to  keep  within  the  law,  no 
matter  how  close  to  the  edge  of  things  she 
went. 

Mackenzie  continued  looking  at  her,  as  if 
waiting  for  the  answer  to  his  first  question. 

"  No,"  she  said  slowly,  "  I  am  not  going  to 
hand  you  over.  I  never  had  any  such  inten 
tion.  We  are  in  each  other's  power.  But  you 
cannot  go  about  openly,  even  in  New  York, 
now.  Some  one  besides  myself  must  have  seen 
that  article." 

Graeme  listened  blankly.  It  was  true.  His 
fancied  security  in  the  city  was  over.  He  had 
fled  to  New  York  because  there,  in  the  mass  of 
people,  he  could  best  sink  his  old  identity  and 
take  on  a  new. 

She  leaned  her  head  on  her  hand  and  her 
elbow  on  the  table  and  looked  deeply  into  his 


THE  FUGITIVES  323 

eyes.  "  Let  me  take  those  securities,"  she 
said.  "  I  will  be  able  to  do  safely  what  you 
cannot  do." 

Graeme  did  not  seem  now  to  consider  the 
fortune  for  which  he  had  risked  so  much.  The 
woman  before  him  was  enough. 

"  Will  you?  "  he  asked  eagerly. 

"  I  will  do  with  them  as  I  would  for  myself, 
better,  because — because  it  is  a  trust,"  she  ac 
cepted. 

"  More  than  a  trust,"  he  added,  as  he  leaned 
over  in  turn  and  in  spite  of  other  diners  in  the 
restaurant  took  her  hand. 

There  are  times  when  the  rest  of  the  critical 
world  and  its  frigid  opinions  are  valueless. 
Constance  did  not  withdraw  her  hand.  Bather 
she  watched  in  his  eyes  the  subtle  physical 
change  in  the  man  that  her  very  touch  pro 
duced,  watched  and  felt  a  response  in  herself. 

Quickly  she  withdrew,  her  hand.  "  I  must 
go,"  she  said  rather  hurriedly,  "  it  is  getting 
late." 

"  Constance,"  he  whispered,  as  he  helped 
her  on  with  her  wraps,  brushing  the  waiter 
aside  that  he  might  himself  perform  any  duty 
that  involved  even  touching  her,  "  Constance, 
I  am  in  your  hands — absolutely." 

It  had  been  pleasant  to  dine  with  him.  It 
was  more  pleasant  now  to  feel  her  influence  and 


324  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

power  over  him.  She  knew  it,  though  she  only 
half  admitted  it.  They  seemed  for  the  moment 
to  walk  on  air,  as  they  strolled,  chatting,  out 
to  a  taxicab. 

But  as  the  cab  drew  up  before  her  own 
apartment,  the  familiar  associations  of  even 
the  entrance  brought  her  back  to  reality  sud 
denly.  He  handed  her  out,  and  the  excitement 
of  the  evening  was  over.  She  saw  the  thing  in 
its  true  light.  This  was  the  beginning,  not  the 
end. 

11  Graeme,"  she  said,  as  she  lingered  for  a 
moment  at  the  door.  "  To-morrow  we  must 
find  a  place  where  you  can  hide." 

"  I  may  see  you,  though?  "  he  asked  anx 
iously. 

11  Of  course.  Ring  me  up  in  the  morning, 
Graeme.  Good-night,"  and  she  was  whisked 
up  in  the  elevator,  leaving  Mackenzie  with  a 
sense  of  loss  and  loneliness. 

"  By  the  Lord,"  he  muttered,  as  he  swung 
down  the  street  in  preference  to  taking  a  cab, 
"  what  a  woman  that  is!  " 

Together  the  next  day  they  sought  out  a 
place  where  he  could  remain  hidden.  Mac 
kenzie  would  have  been  near  her,  but  Constance 
knew  better.  She  chose  a  bachelor  apartment 
where  the  tenants  never  arose  before  noon  and 
where  night  was  turned  into  day.  Men  would 


THE  FUGITIVES  325 

not  ask  questions.  In  an  apartment  like  her 
own  there  was  nothing  but  gossip. 

In  the  daytime  he  stayed  at  home.  Only  at 
night  did  he  go  forth  and  then  under  her  di 
rection  in  the  most  unfrequented  ways. 

Every  day  Constance  went  to  Wall  Street, 
where  she  had  established  confidential  rela 
tions  with  a  number  of  brokers.  Together  they 
planned  the  campaigns ;  she  executed  them  with 
consummate  skill  and  adroitness. 

Constance  was  amazed.  Here  was  a  man 
who  for  years  had  been  able  to  earn  only 
eighty-five  dollars  a  month  and  had  not  seemed 
to  show  any  ability.  Yet  he  was  able  to  specu 
late  in  Wall  Street  with  such  dash  that  he 
seemed  to  be  in  a  fair  way,  through  her,  to  ac 
cumulate  a  fortune. 

One  night  as  they  were  hurrying  back  to 
Graeme's  after  a  walk,  they  had  to  pass  a 
crowd  on  Broadway.  Constance  saw  a  familiar 
face  hurrying  by.  It  gave  her  a  start.  It  was 
Drummond,  the  detective.  He  was  not,  appar 
ently,  looking  for  her.  But  then  that  was  his 
method.  He  might  have  been  looking.  At  any 
rate  it  reminded  her  unpleasantly  of  the  fact 
that  there  were  detectives  in  the  world. 

"  What's  the  matter!  "  asked  Graeme,  no 
ticing  the  change  in  her. 


326  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

"  I  just  saw  a  man  I  know.*' 

The  old  jealousy  flushed  his  face.  Constance 
laughed  in  spite  of  her  fears.  Indeed,  there 
was  something  that  pleased  her  in  his  jealousy. 

"  He  was  the  detective  who  has  been  hound 
ing  me  ever  since  that  time  I  told  you  about. ' ' 

11  Oh,"  he  subsided.    But  if  Drummond  had 
been  there,  Mackenzie  could  have  been  counted 
on  to  risk  all  to  protect  her. 
•  '  *  We  must  be  more  careful, ' '  she  shuddered. 

Constance  was  startled  one  evening  just  as 
she  was  going  out  to  meet  Graeme  and  report 
on  the  progress  of  the  day  at  hearing  a  knock 
at  her  door. 

She  opened  it. 

"  I  suppose  you  think  I  am  your  Nemesis,'* 
introduced  Drummond,  as  he  stepped  in,  veil 
ing  the  keenness  of  his  search  by  an  attempt  to 
be  familiar. 

She  had  more  than  half  expected  it.  She 
said  nothing,  but  her  coldness  was  plainly  one 
of  interrogation. 

"  A  case  has  been  placed  in  my  hands  by 
some  western  clients  of  ours,"  he  said  by  way 
of  swaggering  explanation,  "of  an  embezzler 
who  is  hiding  in  New  York.  It  required  no 
great  reasoning  power  to  decide  that  the  man's 
trail  would  sooner  or  later  cross  Wall  Street. 
I  believe  it  has  done  so — not  directly,  but  in- 


THE  FUGITIVES  327 

directly.  The  trail,  I  think,  has  brought  me 
back  to  the  proverbial  point  of  '  cherchez  la 
femme.'  I  am  delighted,"  he  dwelt  on  the 
word  to  see  what  would  be  its  effect,  "  to  see 
in  the  Graeme  Mackenzie  case  my  old  friend, 
Constance  Dunlap." 

' '  So, ' '  she  replied  quietly,  ' '  you  suspect  me,. 
now.  I  suppose  /  am  Graeme  Mackenzie." 

11  No,"  Drummond  replied  dubiously,  "  you 
are  not  Graeme  Mackenzie,  of  course.  You 
may  be  Mrs.  Graeme  Mackenzie,  for  all  I  know. 
But  I  believe  you  are  the  receiver  of  Graeme 
Mackenzie's  stolen  goods!  " 

"  You  do?  "  she  answered  calmly.  "  That 
remains  for  you  to  prove.  Why  do  you  be 
lieve  it  ?  Is  it  because  you  are  ready  to  believe 
anything  of  me?  ' 

"  I  have  noticed  that  you  are  more  active 
downtown  than — " 

"  Oh,  it  is  because  I  speculate.  Have  I  no 
means  of  my  own?  "  she  asked  pointedly. 

"  Where  is  he?  Not  here,  I  know.  But 
where?  "  insinuated  Drummond  with  a  know 
ing  look. 

"  Am  I  my  brother's  keeper?  "  she  laughed 
merrily.  "  Come,  now.  Who  is  this  wonder 
ful  Graeme  Mackenzie?  First  show  me  that  I 
know  him.  You  know  the  rule  in  a  murder 
case — you  must  prove  the  corpus  delicti.''1 

22 


328  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

Drummond  was  furious.  She  was  so  baf 
fling.  That  was  his  weak  point  and  she  had 
picked  it  out  infallibly.  Whatever  his  sus 
picions,  he  had  been  able  to  prove  nothing, 
though  he  .suspected  much  in  the  buying  and 
selling  of  Constance. 

A  week  of  bitterness,  of  a  constant  struggle 
against  the  wiles  of  one  of  the  most  subtle 
sleuths  followed,  avoiding  hidden  traps  that  be 
set  her  on  every  side.  Was  this  to  be  the  end 
of  it  all?  Was  Drummond 's  heroic  effort  to 
entangle  her  to  succeed  at  last? 

She  felt  that  a  watch  of  the  most  extraordi 
nary  kind  was  set  on  her,  an  invisible  net  woven 
about  her.  Eyes  that  never  slept  were  upon 
her ;  there  was  no  minute  in  her  regular  haunts 
that  she  was  not  guarded.  She  knew  it,  though 
she  could  not  see  it. 

It  was  a  war  of  subtle  wits.  Yet  from  the 
beginning  Constance  was  the  winner  of  every 
move.  She  was  on  her  mettle.  They  would 
not,  she  determined,  find  Graeme  through  her. 

Days  passed  and  the  detectives  still  had  no 
sign  of  the  missing  man.  It  seemed  hopeless, 
but,  like  all  good  detectives,  Drummnod  knew 
from  experience  that  a  clue  might  come  to  the 
surface  when  it  was  least  expected.  Constance 
on  her  part  never  relaxed. 

One  day  it  was  a  young  woman  dressed  in 


THE  FUGITIVES  329 

most  inconspicuous  style  who  followed  close 
behind  her,  a  woman  shadow,  one  of  the 
shrewdest  in  the  city. 

A  tenant  moved  into  the  apartment  across 
the  hall  from  Constance,  and  another  hired  an 
apartment  in  the  next  house,  across  the  court. 
There  was  constant  espionage.  She  seemed  to 
"  sense  "  it.  The  newcomer  was  very  neigh 
borly,  explaining  that  her  husband  was  a  trav 
eling  salesman,  and  that  she  was  alone  for 
weeks  at  a  time. 

The  lines  tightened.  The  next  door  neigh 
bor  always  seemed  to  be  around  at  mail  time, 
trying  to  get  a  look  at  the  postmarks  on  the 
Dunlap  letters.  She  had  an  excuse  in  the  num 
ber  of  letters  to  herself.  ' '  Orders  for  my  hus 
band,  ' '  she  would  smile^  * '  He  gets  lots  ,  of 
them  personally  here." 

All  their  ingenuity  went  for  naught.  Con 
stance  was  not  to  be  caught  that  way. 

They  tried  new  tricks.  If  it  was  a  journey 
she  took,  some  one  went  with  her  whom  she 
had  to  shake  off  sooner  or  later.  There  were 
visits  of  peddlers,  gas  men,  electric  light  and 
telephone  men.  They  were  all  detectives,  also, 
always  seeking  a  chance  to  make  a  search  that 
might  reveal  her  secret.  The  janitor  who  col 
lected  the  waste  paper  found  that  it  had  a  ready 


330  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

sale  at  a  high  price.  Every  stratagem  that 
Drummond's  astute  mind  could  devise  was 
called  into  play.  But  nothing,  not  a  scrap  of 
new  evidence  did  they  find. 

Yet  all  the  time  Constance  was  in  direct  com 
munication  with  Mackenzie. 

Graeme,  in  his  enforced  idleness,  was  more 
deeply  in  love  with  Constance  now  than  ever. 
He  had  eyes  for  nothing  else.  Even  his  for 
tunes  would  have  been  disregarded,  had  he  not 
felt  that  to  do  that  would  have  been  the  surest 
way  to  condemn  himself  before  her. 

They  had  cut  out  the  evening  trips  now,  for 
fear  of  recognition.  She  was  working  faith 
fully.  Already  she  had  cleaned  up  something 
like  fifty  thousand  dollars  on  the  turn  over  of 
the  stuff  he  had  stolen.  Another  week  and  it 
would  be  some  thousands  more. 

Yet  the  strain  was  beginning  to  show. 

11  Oh,  Graeme,"  she  cried,  one  night  after 
she  had  a  particularly  hard  time  in  shaking 
Drummond's  shadows  in  order  to  make  her 
unconventional  visit  to  him,  ll  Graeme,  I'm  so 
tired  of  it  all — tired." 

He  was  about  to  pour  out  what  was  in  his 
own  heart  when  she  resumed,  "  It's  the  lone- 
someness  of  it.  We  are  having  success.  But, 
what  is  success — alone  I  " 


THE  FUGITIVES  331 

"  Yes,"  he  echoed,  thinking  of  his  feeling 
that  night  when  she  had  left  him  at  the  ele 
vator,  of  the  feeling  now  every  moment  of  the 
time  she  was  away  from  him,  * '  yes,  alone !  ' 

With  the  utmost  difficulty  he  restrained  the 
wildly  surging  emotions  within  him.  He  could 
not  know  with  what  effort  Constance  held  her 
poise  so  admirably,  keeping  always  that  bar 
rier  of  reserve  beyond  which  now  and  then  he 
caught  a  glimpse. 

"  Let  us  cut  out  and  bury  ourselves  in  Eu 
rope,"  he  urged. 

"  No,"  she  replied  firmly.  "  Wait.  I  have 
a  plan.  Wait.  We  could  never  get  away. 
They  would  find  us  and  extradite  us  surely." 

She  was  coming  out  of  a  broker's  office  one 
day  after  the  close  of  the  market,  only  to  run 
full  tilt  into  Drummond,  who  had  been  wait 
ing  for  her,  cat-like.  Evidently  he  had  a  pur 
pose. 

"  You  will  be  interested  to  know,"  remarked 
the  detective,  watching  her  narrowly,  "  that 
District  Attorney  Wickham,  who  had  the  case 
in  charge  out  there,  is  in  New  York,  with  the 
president  of  the  Central  Western  Trust." 

"  Yes?  "  she  said  non-committally. 

"  I  told  them  I  was  on  the  trail,  through  a 
woman,  and  they  have  come  here  to  aid  me. ' ' 

Why  had  he  told  her  that?    Was  it  to  put 


332  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

her  on  her  guard  or  was  it  in  a  spirit  of  bra 
vado?  She  could  not  think  so.  It  was  not  his 
style  to  bluster  at  this  stage  of  the  game.  No, 
there  was  a  deep-laid  purpose.  He  expected 
her  to  make  some  move  to  extricate  herself 
that  would  display  her  hand  and  betray  all. 
It  was  clever  and  a  less  clever  person  than 
Constance  would  have  fallen  before  the  on 
slaught. 

Constance  was  thinking  rapidly,  as  he  told 
her  where  and  how  the  new  pursuers  were  ac 
tive.  Here,  she  felt,  was  the  crisis,  her  oppor 
tunity. 

Scarcely  had  Drummond  gone,  than  she,  too, 
was  hurrying  down  the  street  on  her  way  tc 
see  Mackenzie's  pursuers  face  to  face. 

She  found  Wickham  registered  at  the  Prince 
Henry,  a  new  hotel  and  sent  up  her  card.  A 
few  moments  later  he  received  her,  with  con 
siderable  restraint  as  if  he  knew  about  her 
and  had  not  expected  so  soon  to  have  to  show 
his  own  hand. 

"  I  understand,"  she  began  quickly,  "  that 
you  have  come  to  New  York  because  Mr.  Drum 
mond  claims  to  be  able  to  clear  up  the  Graeme 
Mackenzie  case." 

11  Yes?  "  he  replied  quizzically. 

"  Perhaps,"  she  continued,  coming  nearer  to 


THE  FUGITIVES  333 

the  point  of  her  self-imposed  mission,  "  per 
haps  there  may  be  some  other  way  to  settle  this 
case  than  through  Mr.  Drummond." 

"  We  might  hold  you,"  he  shot  out  quickly. 

"  No,"  she  replied,  "  you  have  nothing  on 
me.  And  as  for  Mr.  Mackenzie,  I  understand, 
you  don't  even  know  where  he  is — whether  he 
is  in  New  York,  London,  Paris,  or  Berlin,  or 
whether  he  may  not  go  from  one  city  to  an 
other  at  any  moment  you  take  open  action." 

Wickham  bit  his  lip.  He  knew  she  was  right. 
Even  yet  the  case  hung  on  the  most  slender 
threads. 

"  I  have  been  wondering,"  she  continued, 
"  if  there  is  not  some  way  in  which  this  thing 
can  be  compromised." 

"  Never,"  exclaimed  Wickham  positively. 
"  He  must  return  the  whole  sum,  with  interest 
to  date.  Then  and  only  then  can  we  consider 
his  plea  for  clemency." 

"  You  would  consider  it?  "  she  asked  keenly. 

"  Of  course.  We  should  have  to  consider  it. 
Voluntary  surrender  and  reparation  would  be 
something  like  turning  state's  witness — against 
himself." 

Constance  said  nothing. 

11  Can  you  do  it? ''  he  asked,  watching  craft 
ily  to  see  whether  she  might  not  drop  a  hint 
that  might  prove  valuable. 


334  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

"  I  know  those  who  might  try,"  she  an 
swered,  catching  the  look. 

Wickham  changed. 

"  What  if  we  should  get  him  without  your 
aid?  "  he  blustered. 

"  Try,"  she  shrugged. 

Arguments  and  threats  were  of  no  avail  with 
her.  She  would  say  nothing  more  definite. 
She  was  obdurate. 

* '  You  must  leave  it  all  to  me, ' '  she  repeated. 
11  I  would  not  betray  him.  You  cannot  prove 
anything  on  we." 

"  Bring  the  stuff  up  here  yourself,  then," 
he  insinuated. 

"  But  I  don't  trust  you,  either,"  she  replied 
frankly. 

The  two  faced  each  other.  Constance  knew 
in  her  heart  that  it  was  going  to  be  a  battle 
royal  with  this  man,  that  now  she  had  taken 
a  step  even  so  far  in  the  open  it  was  every 
one  for  himself  and  the  devil  take  the  hind 
most. 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  he  concluded.  "  Those  are 
the  terms.  It  is  as  far  as  I  can  trust  a — a 
thief." 

' '  But  I  will  keep  my  word, ' '  she  said  quietly. 
11  When  you  prove  to  me  that  you  are  abso 
lutely  on  the  level,  that  Mackenzie  can  make 
restitution  in  full  with  interest,  and  in  return 


THE  FUGITIVES  335 

be  left  as  free  a  man  as  he  is  at  this  moment — 
why, — I  can  have  him  give  up." 

"  Mrs.  Dunlap,"  said  Wickham  with  an  air 
of  finality,  ' '  I  will  make  one  concession.  I  will 
adopt  any  method  of  restitution  he  may  prefer. 
But  it  must  be  by  direct  dealing  between  Mac 
kenzie  and  myself,  with  Drummond  present  as 
well  as  Mr.  Taylor,  president  of  the  Trust 
Company,  who  is  now  also  in  New  York.  That 
is  my  ultimatum.  Good-afternoon. " 

Constance  left  the  room  with  flushed  face 
and  eyes  that  glinted  with  determination. 
Over  and  over  she  thought  out  methods  to  ac 
complish  what  she  had  planned.  When  they 
complied  with  all  the  conditions  that  would 
safeguard  Mackenzie,  she  had  determined  to 
act.  But  Graeme  must  be  master  of  the  «itu- 
ation. 

Cautiously  she  went  through  her  usual  elab 
orate  precautions  to  shake  off  any  shadows 
that  might  be  following  her,  and  an  hour  later 
found  her  with  Mackenzie. 

"  What  has  happened?  "  he  asked  eagerly, 
surprised  at  her  early  visit. 

Briefly  she  ran  over  the  events  of  the  after 
noon.  "  Would  you  be  willing,"  she  asked, 
"to  go  to  District  Attorney  Wickham,  hand 
over  the  half  million  with,  say,  twelve  thou- 


336  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

sand  dollars  interest,  in  return  for  freedom?  " 

Graeme  looked  at  Constance  a  moment 
doubtfully. 

11  I  would  not  do  that,"  he  measured  slowly. 
11  How  do  I  know  what  they  will  do,  the  mo 
ment  they  get  me  in  their  power?  No.  Al 
most,  I  would  say  that  I  would  not  go  there 
under  any  guarantee  they  might  give.  I  do 
not  trust  them.  The  indictment  must  be  dis 
missed  first." 

"  But  they  won't  do  that.  The  ultimatum 
was  personal  restitution." 

Constance  was  faced  by  an  apparently  in 
surmountable  dilemma.  She  saw  and  agreed 
with  the  reasonableness  of  Graeme's  position. 
But  there  was  the  opposition  and  obstinacy  of 
Wickham,  the  bitterness  and  unscrupulous- 
ness  of  Drummond.  Here  was  a  tremendous 
problem.  How  was  she  to  meet  it? 

For  perhaps  half  an  hour  they  sat  in  silence. 
One  plan  after  another  she  rejected. 

Suddenly  an  idea  occurred  to  her.  Some 
where,  in  a  bank,  she  had  seen  a  method  which 
might  meet  the  difficulty. 

"  To-morrow — I  will  arrange  it — to  suit 
both  of  you,"  she  cried  confidently. 

"  How?  "  he  asked. 

"  Trust  it  all  to  me,"  she  appealed. 

"  All,"  replied  Graeme,  rising  and  standing 


,    THE  FUGITIVES  337 

before  her.  "  All.  I  will  do  anything  you 
say." 

He  was  about  to  take  her  hand,  but  she  rose. 
"  No,  Graeme.  Not  now.  There  is  work — the 
crisis.  No,  I  must  go.  Trust  me." 

It  was  not  until  noon  of  the  next  day  that 
he  saw  Constance  again.  There  was  an  air  of 
suppressed  excitement  about  her  as  she  en 
tered  the  apartment  and  placed  on  a  table  be 
fore  him  a  small  oblong  box  of  black  enameled 
metal,  beneath  which  was  a  roll  of  paper. 
Above  was  another  somewhat  similar  box  with 
another  roll  of  paper. 

Constance  attached  the  instrument  to  the 
telephone,  an  enigmatical  conversation  fol 
lowed,  and  she  hung  up  the  receiver. 

A  few  minutes  later,  she  took  the  stylus 
that  was  in  the  lower  bex.  Hastily  across  the 
blank  paper  she  wrote  the  words,  "  We  are 
ready. ' ' 

Mackenzie  was  too  fascinated  to  ask  ques 
tions.  Suddenly,  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye, 
he  saw  something  in  the  upper  box  move,  as 
if  of  itself.  It  was  a  similar,  self -inking  stylus. 

"  Watch!  71  exclaimed  Constance. 

"  Bo  you  get  this?  "  wrote  the  spirit  hand. 

"  Perfectly,"  she  scrawled  in  turn.  "Go 
ahead,  as  you  promised." 


338  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

The  upper  stylus  was  now  moving  freely  at 
the  ends  of  its  two  rigid  arms,  counterparts  of 
those  holding  the  lower  stylus. 

"  We  promise,"  it  wrote,  "  that  in  consid 
eration  of  the  return  .  .  .  ' 

"  What  is  it?  "  interrupted  Graeme,  as  the 
meaning  of  the  words  even  now  began  to  dawn 
on  him. 

"  A  telautograph,"  she  replied  simply,  "  a 
long  distance  writer  which  I  have  had  installed 
over  a  leased  wire  from  the  hotel  room  of 
Wickham  to  meet  the  demands  of  you  two. 
With  it  you  write  over  wires  just  as  with  the 
telephone  you  talk  over  wires.  It  is  as  though 
you  took  one  of  the  old  pantagraphs,  split  it  in 
half,  and  had  each  half  connected  only  by  the 
telephone  wires.  While  you  write  on  this 
transmitter,  their  receiver  records  for  them 
what  you  write.  Look!  ' 

"  ...  of  $500,000,"  it  continued  to  write, 
"  in  cash,  stocks  and  bonds,  with  interest  to 
date,  all  proceedings  against  Graeme  Mac 
kenzie  will  be  dropped  and  the  indictment 
quashed. 

"  Marshall  Taylor,  Pres.  Central  Western 
Trust," 

"  Maxwell  Wickham,  District  Att'y." 

"  Biley  Drummond,  Detective." 

"It  is   even  broader  than   I   had  hoped,'5 


THE  FUGITIVES  339 

cried  Constance  in  delight.  ' '  Does  that  satisfy 
you,  Graeme?  " 

11  Y-yes,"  he  murmured,  not  through  hesi 
tation,  but  from  the  suddenness  and  surprise  of 
the  thing. 

11  Then  sign  this." 

She  wrote  quickly :  ' '  In  consideration  of  the 
dropping  of  all  charges  against  me,  I  agree  to 
tell  the  number  and  location  of  the  safe  deposit 
box  in  New  York  where  the  stocks  and  bonds 
I  possess  are  located  and  to  hand  over  a  key 
and  written  order  to  the  same.  I  now  agree 
immediately  to  pay  by  check  the  balance  of  the 
half  million,  including  interest. " 

She  stepped  aside  from  the  machine.  With 
a  tremor  of  eagerness  he  seized  the  stylus  and 
underneath  what  she  had  written  wrote  boldly 
the  name,  "  Graeme  Mackenzie." 

Next  Constance  herself  took  the  stylus. 
"  Place  in  the  telautograph  a  blank  check," 
she  wrote.  "  He  will  write  in  the  name  of  the 
bank,  the  amount,  and  the  signature." 

She  did  the  same.  "  Now,  Graeme,  sign  this 
check  on  the  Universal  Bank  as  Lawrence 
Macey,"  she  said,  writing  in  the  amount. 

Mechanically  he  took  the  stylus.  His  fingers 
trembled  as  he  held  it,  but  with  an  effort  he 
controlled  himself.  It  was  too  weird,  too  un- 


340  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

canny  to  be  true.  Here  he  was,  without  stir 
ring  forth  from  the  security  of  his  hiding 
place;  there  were  his  pursuers  in  their  hotel. 
With  the  precautions  taken  by  Constance, 
neither  party  knew  where  the  other  was.  Yet 
they  were  in  instant  touch,  not  by  the  ear  alone, 
but  by  handwriting  itself. 

He  placed  the  stylus  on  the  paper.  She  had 
already  written  in  the  number  of  the  check,  the 
date,  the  bank,  the  amount,  and  the  payee, 
Marshall  Taylor.  Hastily  Graeme  signed  it, 
as  though  in  fear  that  they  might  rescind  their 
action  before  he  could  finish. 

"  Now  the  securities,"  she  said.  "  I  have 
withdrawn  already  the  amount  we  have  made 
trading — it  is  a  substantial  sum.  Write  out  an 
order  to  the  Safe  Deposit  Company  to  deliver 
the  key  and  the  rest  of  the  contents  of  the 
box  to  Taylor.  I  have  fixed  it  with  them  after 
a  special  interview  this  morning.  They  under 
stand.  ' ' 

Again  Graeme  wrote,  feverishly. 

"  I — we — are  entirely  free  from  prosecution 
of  any  kind?  "  he  asked  eagerly. 

"  Yes,"  Constance  murmured,  with  just  a 
catch  in  her  throat,  as  now  that  the  excitement 
was  over,  she  realized  that  he  was  free,  inde 
pendent  of  her  again. 

The  telautograph  had  stopped.     No,  it  was 


THE  FUGITIVES  341 

starting  again.  Had  there  been  a  slip?  Was 
the  dream  at  last  to  turn  to  ashes?  They 
watched  anxiously. 

11  Mrs.  Dunlap,"  the  words  unfolded,  "  I 
take  my  hat  off  to  you.  You  have  put  it  across 
aijfain. 

"  DRUMMOND." 

Constance  read  it  with  a  sense  of  over 
whelming  relief.  It  was  a  magnanimous  thing 
in  Drummond.  Almost  she  forgave  him  for 
many  of  the  bitter  hours  he  had  caused  in  the 
discharge  of  his  duty. 

As  they  looked  at  the  writing  they  realized 
its  import.  The  detective  had  abandoned  the 
long  search.  It  was  as  though  he  had  put  his 
"  O.  K."  on  the  agreement. 

* '  We  are  no  longer  fugitives !  ' '  exclaimed 
Graeme,  drawing  in  a  breath  that  told  of  the 
weight  lifted  from  him. 

For  an  instant  he  looked  down  into  her  up 
turned  face  and  read  the  conflict  that  was  going 
on  in  her.  She  did  not  turn  away,  as  she  had 
before.  It  flashed  over  him  that  once,  not 
long  ago,  she  had  talked  in  a  moment  of  con 
fidence  of  the  loneliness  she  had  felt  since  she 
had  embarked  as  the  rescuer  of  amateur  crim 
inals. 

Graeme  bent  down  and  took  her  hand,  as  he 


342  CONSTANCE  DUNLAP 

had  the  first  night  when  they  had  entered  their 
strange  partnership. 

11  Never — never  can  I  begin  to  pay  you  what 
I  owe,"  he  said  huskily,  his  face  near  hers. 

He  felt  her  warm  breath  almost  on  his  cheek, 
saw  the  quick  color  come  into  her  face,  her 
breast  rise  and  fall  with  suppressed  emotion. 
Their  eyes  met. 

"  You  need  not  pay,"  she  whispered.  "  I 
am  yours." 

THE  END 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


LD 


DUE 


Form 


firr  /i  r 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


REC'D  LD-Uffl 

AU6  0  t  < 


PS3535.       R2596C 


3  1158  00377  9815 

3535 
R2596c 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A  A      000254343    7 


. 

• 

....... 

. 

•    ' 


! 
, 


T.« 

- 


' 


' 
, 

• 


• 

• 


• 
. 


' 

' 


. 

' 
• 
V 

- 


